


A God’s Guide to Mortals, Love, & Everything in Between

by SkieNight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi never sleeps, Alternate Universe - Explorers, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst for like one chapter, Bokuto pines hard, Everyone swears a bit too much, Kenma deserves an actual vacation, Kuroo is less of a dick than he appears to be, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Minor Gun Violence, More blood than intended..., Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Suga & Oikawa are founders of the Akaashi Protection Squad, and no capybaras were harmed, death mentions, lots of shenanigans, no one dies I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkieNight/pseuds/SkieNight
Summary: Two thousand years ago, Akaashi Keiji lost his powers. Since then, he's lived less as a God and more as an errand boy and gardener for the rest of the Gods. When a group of mortals stumbles into his care, he can either turn them away or try to regain something he lost all those millennia ago. But how far is he willing to go to regain powers he never thought he'd see again? And what happens when he becomes are too close to one of the explorers?Bokuto Koutarou is an explorer who wants one last adventure before the real world catches up with him and his friends. A trip to the infamous Black Jungle sounds like the perfect trick. When a mysterious young man becomes their guide, it seems like Koutarou's trip is about to become even more interesting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading this bizarre little fic of mine. A few little things before we get started. First, I've already written and edited this fic (big thanks to my pal Rudolphsd who isn't afraid to pick apart my work and Elfxci who is my personal cheerleader/enabler <3) so I will update weekly unless something comes up. Second, there shouldn't be much triggering material in this fic, it's pretty light overall, but I will have content warnings at the start of each chapter. Lastly, if you have any comments, questions, concerns, don't be afraid to reach out. 
> 
> With all that said, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this story!
> 
> CW: fire, death mention

The thick scent of smoke, ash, and death hangs in the air, filling his nose. The air is heavy with the heat of the flames. With every breath, his insides burn. The heat consumes him, eating away at his lungs and ribs before dancing down his limbs. It feeds off of the raw power flooding his veins and burns brighter and stronger with every tree it jumps between. Somewhere past the flames, someone calls his name.

“Keiji!”

“Keiji!”

“Keiji!”

The voice belongs to a child, high, shrill, and overflowing with fear and desperation. He rushes forward, pushing through the fire. Each step is more painful than the last. His skin blisters and bubbles, heals itself, and then tears open once more. It feels as though his body will give in and turn to ash before he can make it to the child. But he knows that won’t happen. It can’t happen. His death is impossible.

The trees clear slightly. In the middle of a small opening is a single figure. A small girl stands, shaking. Her skin is darker than Keiji’s own, her eyes are more prominent and brighter than the stars. Even from this distance, he can see the light in them.

She turns, screaming his name again.

Everything falls still. For a moment, it is just Keiji and this little girl. She looks up and meets his gaze. Her eyes sparkle, and when she smiles her grin is a bright as the flames around her.

Though he knows what is to come, his chest seizes at the realization that no matter how fast he moves, how quick he is on his feet, he will never reach her. Though he is a God, he can do nothing but watch this girl stand and smile as the fire draw closer.

He steps forward as the first flame engulfs her figure.

 

Keiji wakes, stomach turning and nose filled with the scents of smoke and ash. His skin is hot and clammy, though his silken covers hang off the end of the bed, cascading onto the floor. He rolls onto his back and stares at the mahogany bed frame, counting the leaves carved into it. He already knows that the number is fifty-seven on across the top and seventy-two down the poles, but counting has become a habit. It’s a way to ground himself in the present and keep the phantoms from the night before at bay.

When the nausea passes and the burning under his skin can be ignored, he sits up. There is a tingling, almost bubbling feeling in his chest, as though excess energy has somehow buried itself there. While the feeling is not a foreign one, it is an uncommon and uncomfortable one. He can’t think of the last time he had excess energy, especially after such a taxing dream.

Lifting himself out of bed, he moves around his room in silence and solitude. Long gone are the days when his attendants stood along the walls, waiting to help him bathe and dress. A millennia ago, Keiji would have thought he’d miss the help and the company, but he has found that he enjoys the solitude. Besides, with no influence, there are no meetings to attend or business to handle and thus no reason for extra eyes or hands. His only worries are of the gardens, which he can manage on his own.

Light filters in through the drapes as Keiji approaches the window. It’s late in the morning, though that’s no surprise. He has no reason to wake early so he doesn’t. He has never been much of a morning God anyway. Pushing the drapes aside, Keiji looks over the gardens that separate his Wing from the Wings of the other gods. They are neat, every flower bright and not a branch out of place. It’s beautiful, though Keiji doesn’t think anything will ever outshine his jungle back in the Mortal Realm.

The paths that wind through the gardens are free of leaves or wilted plants, and the stones shine immaculately. The only reason that the everything is this clean is because of the remaining staff he has. He had expected to lose everything when he lost his Status, but The Council had enough grace to let him keep a few nymphs and fae to maintain his Wing. He has no doubt that Oikawa and Suga played an instrumental role in that grace, but they never speak about it and Keiji has never asked.

Pulling his eyes from the outdoors he moves through his routine: bathe, dress, take care of the plants scattered around his room, then slip on light sandals and head to breakfast.

Most mornings, the fae prepare his meal early and leave it on a small table that overlooks the gardens. Sometimes Keiji dines alone. Other times, one or two other Gods are there to keep him company. Even when he has guests over, there is no use in eating at a dining table that can hold as many as twelve when there is only one of him and two guests, so he settles for the small table that four can comfortably squeeze around.

It isn’t all too surprising when he finds Oikawa and Suga already seated, heads together, nibbling on whatever the fae have prepared. But Keiji still pauses a moment to collect himself and calm his expression before stepping out onto the patio.

“The great Lord Akaashi Keiji has finally graced us with his presence,” Oikawa says with more energy than anyone ought to have before noon.

Suga, on the other hand, gives Keiji a small smile and nod. “Good morning, Keiji.”

Keiji nods in return and sets himself between them, in the spot that overlooks most of the gardens. He is pleased to see them, even if his reaction doesn’t seem to indicate so, but the small smile Suga sends his way tells him that they know as much.

Yes, Keiji enjoys quiet mornings, but on certain days too much solitude can be dangerous and friendly faces are appreciated.

“How do you feel?” Suga asks as a fae servant sets a plate down before Keiji and grabs Suga’s cup before fluttering away on delicate wings.

The tingling feeling in his chest remains. It hasn’t worsened but it hasn’t lessened either, and it’s getting hard to ignore. Despite that, Keiji replies with ease, “I’m fine. How are you? I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

He feels their eyes watching him more closely than usual, but pays it no mind and instead turns to his plate layered with fruits and cheeses and bread and nuts. Oikawa’s and Suga’s plates are littered with much of same along with various cuts of meat. Keiji doesn’t know how the fae acquire such ingredients, considering their master doesn’t eat them but has never worried about it much. Food in the God’s Realm is easy to come by.

“Haven’t been here for too long,” Suga says as his cup is returned.

“We knew you’d sleep in, so we didn’t bother coming early,” Oikawa adds.

Keiji hums and eats his food. The rest of breakfast is quiet, filled with light banter between Oikawa and Suga, which Keiji doesn’t participate in but enjoys nonetheless. The tingling feeling never leaves and only grows as he looks over the garden. Had he been alone, Keiji would have gone out and expelled whatever pent-up energy he needed to, but under Suga and Oikawa’s watchful eyes he remains in his seat, adding to the conversation whenever necessary

When the last plate is cleared from the table, Oikawa stands. “Shall we head out?”

Keiji rises shortly after, nodding, and Suga hops up a moment later. The three of them start down the steps of the patio and make their way through the small but abundant garden. Unlike the other Gods and Goddesses, Keiji’s Artifact Room is separated from his main Wing. It’s for the best. He isn’t sure how many trips he would have made if it were any closer. As it is, he goes down more than The Council approves.

Keiji understands why The Council doesn’t want him to visit too often. There isn’t much he can do in the Mortal Realm anymore. He is more useful in the Gods’ Realm. He is only useful in the Gods’ Realm, if he is to be realistic.

As they make their way through the garden, movement catches his eyes. He looks up and spots another figure – tall and intimidating – striding towards them. To his left, Oikawa freezes, eyes narrowing and hands slowly balling into fists. To his right, Suga takes a step forward and smiles a bit too brightly.

“Lord Ushijima,” Suga says with a shallow dip of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I am looking for Akaashi,” the God says.

Though he hadn’t been expecting Ushijima, the sight of the other God is anything but surprising. Keeping his expression collected, Keiji takes a step forward to fall in line with Suga and gives Ushijima a small bow. “How may I assist you, Lord Ushijima?”

“My gardens need to be trimmed, and I have flowers displays that need to be made. There are also messages that must be delivered.”

Leave it to the God of Agriculture to be blunt. Oikawa calls it being rude, but Keiji thinks of it as simple and to the point. With Ushijima, he doesn’t have to worry about double meanings or hidden messages. What is meant is said, no matter how it comes across.

Before Keiji can respond, Oikawa cuts in, “He’s busy today.”

“You are taking a walk. That does not seem to be productive or busy.”

“We’re heading to the Mortal Realm.”

Ushijima actually looks mildly confused. “Why would you need to do that?”

Oikawa glares, and Keiji finds himself studying his hands. If they were to push their trip off to this afternoon, he’d have plenty of times to at least wipe together a bouquet of sorts and deliver some messages. That would also mean that Oikawa and Suga could-

“We have business to attend to,” Oikawa says, chin up and eyes narrowed.

“As do I,” Ushijima replies, “And I do not think gallivanting off to clean a temple is as much work as trying to prepare for a-”

“You can deal with your damn festival yourself,” Oikawa snaps, and Keiji holds back a flinch. Normally, this is where Keiji would step it, but it’s Oikawa and Ushijima, nothing has ever been civil between the two of them and nothing ever will be. “You’re not even hosting it. You’re a guest. It’s in your honor. Besides, Keiji isn’t your errand fae. Don’t you have nymphs who can do that for you?”

“Certainly. The gardens, however-”

“I don’t care. Come on Keiji, if we get there soon we can watch the sunrise.”

Oikawa grabs him by the arm and drags him down the path. Suga mutters what sounds like a half-baked apology before tailing them, leaving Ushijima alone in a garden that isn’t even his own.

“The fucking audacity that God has, I swear!” Oikawa hisses. “He knows too. He knows what an important day this is. Does he always have to be so rude and ruin everyone else’s fun? I swear these festivals are starting to get to his head!”

“You’re just jealous that he has one,” Suga laughs.

“He doesn’t just have one, he has five!”

“Three,” Suga corrects, “he only has three.”

“Three more than he deserves,” Oikawa mutters.

The group stops at the base of a small domed structure with a simple exterior and a near, mahogany door. The door, which stands about for people wide and two stories high, is engraved with a menagerie of carvings. The carvings depict a jungle, from the shrubs below to the canopy overhead. Among the trees, near where the doors split down the center, is a figure surrounded by plants.

Keiji steps forward and lets his palms rest on two large grooves that each makes up the trunk of a tree. The wood around his hand ripples, and the plants dance. The figure in the middle of it all turns slowly and vanishes into the vines just as the doors begin to open. Keiji slips into the building. Oikawa and Suga are not far behind.

In comparison to many other Gods, Keiji’s Artifact Room is small and compact. The room itself is decorated but not lavish. The domed ceiling is carved simply, decorated only with a handful of beams, and in the center of the room lays a small pond, the water clear as glass. Aside from the walls are plain, carved and painted with only an occasional tree. Even when he had full Status, he saw no reason to have a large and extravagant  Artifact Room. It wasn’t as if he ever held parties or housed guests in it. The room was for himself, and himself alone.

The door closes behind them and Oikawa shivers. “Let’s get going. It’s always so cold in here.”

It is cool; Keiji doesn’t pay that much attention though. His eyes travel around the small room to the simple carvings along the wall and the murals that hang down from the ceilings. Even the cushions along the sides remain untouched. Despite the stillness and the emptiness, the room is free of dust, probably thanks to the nymphs.

Keiji leads Oikawa and Suga to the glassy pond in the center of the room. The two steps into the water, Oikawa barely suppressing a shiver. After one last look around, Keiji follows them in. The buzzing in his chest had grown worse when he walked into the Artifact Room, and he is thankful for any way to release the pent-up energy. With a small sigh, he closes his eyes and allows the energy to ripple out around him.

The water sloshes against his leg then stills. The chill of the Artifact Room vanishes, replaced with warm, humidity. The air is no longer scentless but smells of damp moss, old stones, and banana leaves. Whatever tension remains in Keiji’s shoulders is released as his eyes flutter open.

They are no longer in a clean and embellished Artifact Room, but a worn out temple that has not had nymphs or fae to care for it. The floor is covered in dirt, dust, and whatever other debris has blown in. Vines crawl along the walls and hang from the cracks in the ceiling. The seal on which the three of them stand is so worn the symbol it depicts is nearly impossible to make out. Keiji lets his foot trace the familiar shape and allows himself a second to smile and take it all in.

Suga looks about while Oikawa steps off the seal and walks around the space. “A bit more overgrowth than I thought there would, but it’s still in good shape.”

“The wards have held up nicely,” Suga adds.

Keiji nods and turns his attention to the wall covered in a faded mural of a short-haired man engulfed by vines and trees. In the figure’s outstretched hands, flowers bloom. Centuries ago, seeing an image of himself wouldn’t have caused Keiji to flinch. Now, it does. It takes a few moments of getting used to, of reminding himself that at one point he deserved the carving.

Ignoring the ache in his chest, Keiji starts towards the dais along the back wall. He pauses at the stairs to look up at the stone slab, once smooth, shimmering obsidian, now dark and dusty. He takes a second to look back at the carving and remember the feeling of flowers blooming and the hugs he received from the forest before he continues around the dais to the wall. In the far corner, where the slab meets the wall, is a door hidden by carvings and bricks. When he places his hand on it, the slab opens up, revealing a small room. Taking a breath, Keiji ducks inside.

The back room is the only section of the temple truly untouched by time. It looks just as it did all those millennia ago when Keiji was first granted the temple. The stone floors are smooth but not worn. They are not as shiny as they once were, but the layer of dust is thin and easy to see through. The carvings on the walls are clear and fresh, untouched by sunlight and seasons, and the pedestal where his Artifact sits shines brightly. The Artifact itself – an owl carved into shimmering obsidian and trimmed with gold along the wings and face – is clear of dust, a tribute to whatever power the temple, and Keiji, still hold.

Keiji takes a step towards the Artifact then freezes. The buzzing had stopped once he had used the energy to open the portal to the temple. But in a blink it returns, stronger than before. It no longer lingers in only his chest, but gurgles under the skin of his arms like faint bolts of lightning. It causes his ears to ring and makes his head feel lighter. Keiji looks to his Artifact. Its emerald eyes shimmer for a second, as though caught in the sunlight that doesn’t exist in the room, and then darkens once more. Keiji turns and hurries back to the main space.

Suga and Oikawa are busy pulling vines off the walls and wherever else they can reach. Keiji doesn’t stop to help them. He continues past them, down the pillar-lined center and towards the front of the temple. Suga calls after him but Keiji doesn’t quite hear what the other God says.

He steps out of the temple and turns, starting down the path and leads to the base of the mountain. Once upon a time, the path would have lead to a sprawling civilization tucked away in the jungle. Now it leads to dense trees and hidden ruins. Keiji stops and looks down the side of the mountain and over the jungle.

The area that used to be his land is no longer untouched by what Oikawa so lovingly refers to as “the modern world,” but humans haven’t decimated it either. Farther south along the river is a small city. Keiji has never been there – it’s just outside of his Domain and is thus out of reach – but he knows it exists. He could feel them building it.

Now, most of his jungle is a reserve, or so he has been told. Still, Keiji requested that Suga place wards around the center of the reserve, hiding both his temple and the civilization’s ruins from the rest of the Mortal Realm. The exterior of the temple no longer looks like what is once did and the civilization has been turned into piles of ruins, but Keiji would rather have them worn away by the winds of time, then trampled on by thousands of human tourists, like so many other temples around the world.

“Keiji, is something wrong?” Suga’s voice drifts up from farther along the path.

“Someone’s here. I can feel them.”

“Perhaps it’s just a hiker.”

Hikers pass through all the time. For the most part, Keiji never feels them because the wards keep them away from the center of his Domain. Sure, he would be aware of them as one is aware of a spring breeze or the smell of smoke when sitting around a campfire, but they are never a constant presence on his mind.

This is different. This feeling, this energy, was like an itch under his skin or a beetle crawling over the back of his knee. It couldn’t be ignored, no without constant effort. And if he felt them that strongly, it meant that whoever this was, was near or within Suga’s wards.

“I’ll go down and check it out,” he says before he can stop himself. “It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be back quickly and then we can finish cleaning.”

“Keiji,” Suga’s voice is quiet and calming, “They might be near the wards, but there’s no way they’ve crossed them. Trust me, I’d know. You would too. They may have passed into them briefly but are being redirected. There’s no way they’re near the ruins.”

Keiji takes a second to glance over his shoulder but steps forward anyway. “I should still go investigate.”

Before he can turn around again, a firm hand falls on his shoulder. “Keiji,” Oikawa’s voice is soft but his tone leaves little room for disagreement. “Your village is fine. And if a mortal is nearby, let them be. There’s no reason to try and piss off The Council.”

Looking back over the jungle, the buzzing in his chest lessens, but it doesn’t leave completely. Keiji turns and followed the two gods back to his temple, chest tight and heart aching.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I'd update once a week and what did I do? Totally didn't update. Sorry about that, midterms, snow, and friends/family took all my time, I'll try to be better about this in the future. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope y'all enjoy this next chapter!

“Hey, bro. What do you think about heading down the Black Jungle this summer?”

Koutarou stops in the small entryway of the apartment and blinks. His two roommates are seated on the couch. Kenma remains curled against the farthest armrest, eyes on his PSP as he taps away silently, and Tetsurou is turned so that he is facing the front door. His laptop sits, balanced on his knees, and various magazines are scattered across the table. He’s planning something, Koutarou can see it in the way his eyes sparkle and smirk shines. On the armrest beside him is a magazine – probably  _ National Geographic _ or something.

The Black Jungle. Koutarou has to admit, it sounds interesting. The three of them had never been that close to the equator before. They had been to the jungle before, twice actually. The first time was to find a lost statute that had never existed in the first place. And the second time was for… was that the calendar trip or the temple exploration? No, the temple exploration had been one of the times they went to the mountains, and the calendar trip had led them north. Whatever the second trip had been, it ended up being as much of a failure as the first one, but it had been fun. Jungles were fun. As long as you weren’t chased by boars or bitten by spiders that could possibly kill you.

Koutarou drops his bag and kicks off his shoes before stepping past the small entryway they’d set up. “I dunno sounds-”

“Please don’t encourage him,” Kenma says from his corner of the couch.

Tetsurou pouts and turns to the man beside him. “But Kenma!”

Kenma doesn’t look up from his game. “We’re not flying to  _ another _ continent and trekking through  _ another _ jungle for  _ another _ made-up item from  _ another _ made-up civilization.”

“It’s not made-up! The city was found fifty-years ago, lost, and then never re-found. But new sonograms and satellite imagery shows that something  _ is _ out there.”

The clicking of Kenma’s game pauses for a moment. “ _ Sonogram _ ? Really? Do you even know what a sonogram is?”

“Well, no… But they did some fancy tech-thingy to look for it, and they actually found something. Bo, help me out here!” Tetsurou twists back around and practically hangs off the couch, magazine in hand. Now that Koutarou is closer, he can see that the magazine in question is, in fact, a  _ National Geographic _ magazine, the most recent issues by the looks of it.

Crossing to the couch, Koutarou plops himself besides Tetsurou after some shuffling around, which pushes Kenma farther into the armrest and Tetsurou farther into Kenma. In the struggle, the magazine ends up in his lap, and Koutarou looks it over. The cover picture is of a pair of dolphins playing in some waves. Koutarou looks to Tetsurou who sighs, pulls the magazine from his hands, and flips to a seemingly random page before thrusting it into Koutarou’s chest once again.

“Fifty-seven years ago, Dr. Ukai and his exploration crew claimed to have stumbled across a city that vanished overnight. Satellite imagines may hint at possible truths in those accounts,” Koutarou reads before skimming the rest of the article. There isn’t much to it, just a picture and a small blurb that takes up less than half of the page. The picture itself is just an aerial shot of the jungle, impressive, but it doesn’t show much.

“Cool right?” Tetsurou says. “A few months ago a guy was hiking through the Black Jungle and found part of a body. They think it’s a child’s but identification is almost impossible because of how severely the bones are burned. The body was by this carving that no one can identify, so they think they might have found traces of a new civilization that was in the Black Jungle over a thousand years ago. They decided to take another look at the jungle using satellites and whatever that shit was called the Kenma was talking about.”

“You only use sonograms to look for things within the human body,” Kenma mutters, “Also, it should be noted that there haven’t been any other bodies or evidence to support this ‘theory’ that these  _ people  _ \- not scientists - have come up with, and all ‘traces’ of a city have led to dead ends.”

“Which means we’ll be rich if we’re the ones to find it!”

Kenma sighs and looks up from his game once some music begins to chime. “Do you remember the last time we went looking for something because someone else thought they found a clue? We ended up in the middle of the savanna and lost a few thousand dollars. We’re not going to the Black Jungle.”

“Come on!” Tetsurou cries, throwing an arm around Kenma’s shoulder. “A month or two hiking around the great outdoors, meeting locals, eating great food, and going on an epic journey of self-discovery before our last year at college, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Kenma’s look of disgust and discomfort is more than enough of an answer.

Tetsurou groans, pulls away from Kenma, and falls against Koutarou. “Back me up, Bo. Doesn’t discovering a new civilization sound cool?”

It does sound like an adventure, which is something Koutarou desperately needs. In three and a half months, they’re going back to college. From there, Kenma will apply and (undoubtedly) get a job for some computer company. Tetsurou will go to grad school and earn a masters in journalism and communications (he already got accepted early to a program, financial aid and all).  And Koutarou… Koutarou doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Whatever is to come, their time for adventure is rapidly closing, being clogged with various responsibilities. This might be their last time to branch out and explore without limitations.

“Sounds interesting,” Koutarou admits. “And this might be our last time to do anything like this.”

“Exactly!” Tetsurou exclaims as Kenma groans and curls into himself and his game. Tetsurou’s eyes light up. He pushes himself off of Koutarou and throws another arm around Kenma. “Bo’s in, so what do you say? A month this summer, that’s all we’re asking.”

“This is dumb, Kuro.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes, it is,” Kenma insists, never looking up. “You’re not going to find anything, and when you don’t you’re just going to lose thousands of more dollars dragging us to another corner of the globe.”

Tetsurou frowns. “This will be the last one.”

“You said that last time.”

“This is it, I swear. Besides, it’s like Bo said, we aren’t going to have any more time after this.” Tetsurou stretches slightly and plucks the PSP out of Kenma’s hands. The smaller man turns, glaring. “I’ll give this back if you say you’ll go with us. It’ll only be for a month, and I’m sure we can find cheap tickets. Bo will help me look, right?”

“Yup!” Koutarou finds himself nodding along before he even processes exactly what Tetsurou made him agree to.

Kenma continues to glare.

“Come on, one last trip? The three musketeers all together again on one last grand adventure! It sounds like a movie!”

Kenma studies Tetsurou for a moment. When he looks over to Koutarou, Koutarou gives him a bright smile. “It’ll be a lot of fun, Kenma!”

“And we’ll be rich and famous when we discover something!”

“It’ll be like Indiana Jones!” Koutarou agrees.

“But without all the snakes.” Tetsurou waits, and Kenma continues to glare. “I’ll buy you apple pie?”

Something in Kenma’s eyes light up and his gaze slides back to his PSP. A different song had started playing a while ago, probably signifying his character’s death. Kenma sighs. “One for every day that we’re gone.”

Tetsurou cheers and drops Kenma’s gameboy back onto his lap. 

Kenma snatches it up in an instant, muttering, “this is a terrible idea.”

If Tetsurou hears him, he ignores it, draping one arm back over Kenma’s shoulders and another over Koutarou’s, pulling them into a bear hug. “You won’t regret this. It’ll be great. We’ll come home with fame and fortune and tales to tell!”

“Or new diseases to spread,” Kenma mutters, his attention returning to his game.

“Because you agreed to this, I’ll even make dinner.”

“Kuro,” Kenma says, “you can’t cook.”

“Then I’ll order something. Indian, Mexican, or pizza?”

There is a pause, Koutarou is about to open his mouth but he realizes that Tetsurou is looking to Kenma so he closes it again. After a few more clicks, Kenma says, “Indian.”

“Indian it is!” Tetsurou repeats, hopping off the couch and walking off to the kitchen to make the call.

Koutarou glances back to Kenma then down at the  _ National Geographic  _ magazine, now forgotten on the floor. He picks it up, smiling, and flips back to the page with the little blurb. A lost civilization and a vanishing city… Koutarou has a good feeling about this one.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for, once again, skipping a week. Life and school got a little hectic and left me with very little time to do much of anything. But I should (actually) be clear to update weekly for the rest of this fic. Sorry again, and as always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> CW: mentioned of pain

Enough time has passed since the hiker-energy incident that Keiji should have forgotten about it and moved on. But he can’t. It’s impossible to recall the last time he felt the familiar and comforting swirl of power to that extent. So much time has passed that the smallest taste leaves him hungry for more, like a man traversing a desert with only a drop of water left to drink. The drop will quench his thirst for a moment, then only leave him parched in the end.

That buzz, though faint, was more power than Keiji has had in centuries, millennia really, and he longs for it even now as he meanders through Ushijima’s gardens. Every so often he thinks he feels that familiar prickle under his skin or across his chest. But it’s gone in a blink, leaving him aching and wishing for anything more than the drop he has.

Turning his attention back to the flower before him, Keiji caresses its petals with gentle fingers, brightening its color and removing any spots from its leaves. It’s simple work, stuff he used to be able to do in a single breath, but now it takes concentration, and, most importantly, energy. Every flower he brightens or dead leaf he revives costs him something from deep within. It’s like someone removing the blood from his veins or air from his lungs bit by bit. He has some left over, but every piece removed drains him a little bit more.

He’s almost halfway through Ushijima’s garden, which is far more extensive than his own, when something barrels into him, taking the air out of his lungs and almost pulling his legs out from under him. Keiji extends a hand to catch himself on something, anything, but only manages to stumble into the nearest hedge. He straightens himself and takes a steadying breath when the wave hits him again. This time it’s like a punch to the gut.

This is no warm energy humming under his skin, waiting to be released, this is energy breaking and crackling inside of him as it is ripped from his veins. There is nothing that should be causing this, nothing that can be causing this.  He can’t even perform a larger incantation or produce a minor glamour without assistance from someone else, nevertheless an enchantment that would take this much of his energy. Even when he was powerful he was never skilled in charms like Suga was… is.

Suga…

Before he can pursue that line of thought any farther, a third wave hits, draining him of even more energy, the glass bead around his neck twinkles. Ripping it off his necklace to let it float in front of him, Keiji is met with a very concerned looking Suga, who is standing in some corner of some hallway; it looks like the earthy architecture of Sawamura’s wing, but he can’t be sure.

“What’s going on over there?” Suga asks, he sounds almost out of breath. “Are you alright?”

“You feel too?”

Suga goes to answer but the surge strikes again and Keiji’s body weavers as if unable to hold him up. When his eyes focus back on the shimmering glass bulb, suspended before him, he sees that Suga has only grown paler. Beads of sweat begin to drip across his forehead.

Their eyes meet and widen in tandem.

“The ward,” Suga gasps.

“I’ll meet you by my Room in ten,” Keiji’s responds. He plucks the glass bead out of thin air, hooks it back onto his necklace, and is off, weaving through Ushijima’s garden, trying his best not to collapse as he goes.

He makes it to his Artifact Room without fainting. He can’t say he accomplishes this alone; two of his servant fae are by his side, watching with quiet but concerned eyes, and holding him up whenever he seems close to falling. But he makes it and manages to shake them off just as Suga rounds the corner. Oikawa appears not a moment later. 

While Oikawa is put-together and neat as always, Suga is pale and breathing heavily. His pale skin glistens with sweat and Keiji doesn’t miss the tremors that run through his arms and he struggles to retain as much of his power as possible. He’s getting the worst of it, by far. After all, the barrier was his incantation; Keiji just provided permission and the groundwork for it.

The wide doors swing open, and the trio stumbles into the room. This time there’s no looking around, no comments on the cool air (which feels wonderful against Keiji’s scorching skin) or grievances about stepping into cold water. They head straight for the pool, practically throwing themselves into it. Keiji sucks in a breath, gathering as much power as he can when a hand comes to rest on his chest. He looks up and meets Oikawa’s brown eyes.

“You’re going to run yourself dry,” the God says, which is ironic coming from him, but they can discuss that later when the ward is put back together, and whoever is in it is kicked back out, “Let me give you some of my power.”

Keiji doesn’t have it in him to disagree. With a stuttering breath, he takes what limited power he has and mixes it with what he needs from Oikawa. A flash later, and the water around their calves is gone, and the cool air is muggy. Keiji turns on the seal as another was of power courses through him, causing his legs to buckle and knees begin to cave under him. Oikawa is there a moment later, pulling him up while struggling to balance Suga as well.

They don’t talk as they race to the front of the temple and step out onto the cliff side. The jungle itself is bathed in still silence only broken by the occasional cry of a parrot or holler of a monkey. Upon first glance, everything is how it was all those weeks ago when the three of them came down to clean the temple. The ruins far in the distance glisten against the setting sun, and the river that flows from the mountain winds slowly around its base, disappearing into the trees. No change to be seen, but Keiji can feel it down to his bones.

Another wave comes, this one sharper, clearer, and in the distance, among the trees, something shimmers, as if the air itself has caught the sun’s light. The ward should never be seen, only felt.

Keiji looks to his friends. Suga is leaning heavily against Oikawa, breathing deeply, eyes closed and fists clenched. Keiji should be in the same state, if not worse. Though it is Suga’s power that controls the ward, it is his power that gives it permission to exist at all. One God cannot simply use their powers in another God’s Realm, they need permission first. 

Keiji gave Suga that permission centuries ago, because of that he should be fighting the same battle. Instead, he feels lighter, freer, as if he is still walking through the Realm of the Gods and not the Mortal Realm. He should be heavier here, not lighter. His energy should be draining, not expanding.

His attention turns to a small flower, clinging to a rock, its roots pulled up and its stem and petals wilted under the equatorial sun. He finds himself drawn to it, his fingers itching to revive it. To grow it. To expand it.

“Keiji, you know I love you, but now isn’t the time to stop and smell the flowers,” Oikawa says as Keiji walks towards the small plan. “We have larger issues to deal with.”

Oikawa is right, of course, but something in Keiji begs him, urges him to help this plant. It’s as if he can hear its soft cries. He bends down before the plant and runs a finger up the stem and across the petals. All at once, the flower rises as if stretching towards the sun, and the color returns to it. 

No longer is it a dead brown but a bright, shining red. Keiji casts another breath over the plant and its routes extend around the rock and vanish down into the dirt. The stem splits, then splits again and again until the rock no longer looks like a rock but a bush on the side of the mountain.

It’s too easy, too simple. Centuries ago this was his power and then some. Growing and maintaining the forest cost him nothing and gave him anything. But after the loss of his Status, reviving took energy. Energy he isn’t supposed to have.

He feels Oikawa’s eyes on his back as he stands and studies the bush in front of him. He should be weak, light headed. He shouldn’t be standing. The tension shouldn’t be lifted. But he is. It is. He’s refreshed, relaxed, and there’s power tingling the tips of his fingers and dancing on his breath. It isn’t a lot, but it’s  _ something _ . 

“Keiji?” Suga’s voice shakes slightly, either from exhaustion or fear, Keiji can’t tell.

His gaze falls to his hands. Power isn’t something that comes solely from people within a God’s Domain. It also comes from their belief and understanding of that God. This power isn’t anything like what he used to have, but after loosing is Status, it’s more than he could ever ask for.

“They’re through the ward,” he says, looking to meet his friend's eyes.

“They?” Suga asks. 

At the same time, Oikawa inquires, “There’s more than one?”

Keiji nods. He can feel them, together, a single entity with different moving parts. It’s hard to explain but he knows there are three of them, with three different auras. His eyes drift to the trees down below. They’re here somewhere, walking among the trees. And they’re close, much too close to the ruins. The thought squeezes at Keiji’s chest.

“You two fix the ward,” Keiji says, turning and starting down the pathway of the mountain. “I’m going to investigate.”

“Is that a good idea?” Suga asks.

Keiji stops and looks back at his friends with a frown. “Why wouldn’t it be? They can’t get near the ruins.”

“Keiji, they’re probably not near the ruins, and even if they were your abilities are coming back,” Oikawa says, “You made a fucking bush bloom from a dead flower! Imagine what would happen if they find the ruins? You might get enough power to reclaim your Status. I know you don’t want anyone near them but-”

“If you know that, then why are you asking?”

Oikawa doesn’t have it in him to even look sheepish, he just looks exasperated, as if he knew what Keiji would say but is still disappointed. “Keiji, it’s been well over two thousand years, I think it’s time to let go. Step back, and let the mortals explore a little. You can keep wards around the temple, but if they find the city and spread the news… think of what you could do? You could regain Influence. Ragain power. Say ‘fuck you’ to The Council and that bastard Ushijima and do whatever you want! You could get your Status back and-”

Frustration mixed with the new power causing Keiji’s blood to run hot. He took a few deep breaths, to save his face. “I don’t want my Status of my Influence back if it means breaking my promise.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “You made that promise to mortals thousands of years ago. And guess what? They’re dead. There’s no reason to keep a promise you made to ghosts!”

Hot, boiling anger runs through Keiji’s veins mixing with the power. There isn’t enough power for his sudden burst to be dangerous, but he still tries to reel it in. Oikawa doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t understand. He’s been a god for the same civilization for thousands of years, but he’s never been close to them. It’s all work for him. Granting wishes and providing passion means nothing when he doesn’t know the people he’s granting wishes for.

As Keiji turns around, ready to stock off in silent anger, Suga’s voice catches his ear, “Tooru, stop. This is Keiji’s decision. It’s his Domain, let him be. He knows what he’s doing.”

Keiji glances over his shoulder. Suga had pushed himself from Oikawa’s grasp. He’s no longer shaking, though he’s still pale and looks as though a gust of wind will blow him over. He passes Keiji a smile anyway. “We’ll take care of the ward, you deal with whoever’s down there.”

“Thank you,” Keiji says, though it’s probably too quiet for Suga or Oikawa to here.

Oikawa frowns. He doesn’t look at Keiji when he says, “Be careful. You know how The Council feels about too much interaction with mortals.”

With that final blessing, Keiji takes off down the slope.

Locating the travelers proves easier than Keiji thought it would be. Even after losing his abilities, the trees speak to him, guiding him and providing insight into the comings and goings of people and animals. They spoke to him before he became a God, it makes sense that they continue to speak to him, even after he loses his Status. They are old friends, ones Keiji refuses to let go of.

_ They… they’re here. _

_ … unwelcomed… _

_ … unwanted... _

The trees no longer speak in muffled whispers, but in a chorus of voices, flying at him from all sides. They point to where the strangers are, whispering about their oddities and their otherness. Gossiping about their unusual abilities. These things Keiji already knows. He can feel them. But there’s comfort in knowing that the trees feel it too. That he isn’t the only one who wants them gone.

He hears the strangers before he sees them. Upon nearing them, the trees fall silent, as though afraid to be overheard, and Keiji uses the extra power he’s been granted to hide himself amongst the shadows – he figures that he might as well use the power now while he has it.

He can feel the barrier being reconstructed. Suga’s power, though unassuming in a way Oikawa’s will never be, is still different than Keiji’s own. It’s a fresh breeze that caresses the trees. Keiji uses it as a reminder that his friends are near if he needs them. Calling on his short-term powers, he slides through the shadows of the trees like a jaguar. The closer he gets the louder the voices become. 

_ … here, Keiji… _

_ They’re here. _

_ Up ahead… _

_ … they reek of the city. _

_ … they reek of...  _

_ Beware, Keiji... _

All at once, the trees fall silent.

Through the spaces between fern leaves, three figures come into view. They move together in a group, one never too far away or in front of the others. The two loudest ones walk together. Both are tall, one with dark hair that looks like it has never seen a comb, and another with unnaturally silver hair that stands up too straight to be natural. They’re laughing about something, and walking with too much confidence and not enough caution for a jungle. 

The one just behind them is quiet, observant and careful in his movements. He walks as if he doesn’t quite trust the ground to hold him up.  There’s a moment when he pauses and his cat-like eyes meet Keiji’s. They stare at each other in mutual confusion and Keiji is rooted in place among the shadows.  A second later and the mortal blinks and takes a few quickened steps to keep up with his friends.

Keiji trails them, slowly and softly, all too aware of the smallest one. But feline eyes never meet his own again, so perhaps it was simply a freak coincidence. He’s not sure he believes that, but it’s better than trying to come up with any other reason. The mortals walk for a while until they come up an odd break in the trees, where they slip off their bags and pull out their waters. The tall one with messy dark hair going to speak to the quiet one with cat-like eyes. While they whisper among themselves the silver-haired one pulls out a funny box-like contraption and begins to do… something with it. Oikawa or Suga would know, Keiji doesn’t, he’s never had reason to keep up with human inventions.

After another look over, Keiji frowns. They don’t look like the kind to give up, and rerouting them will most likely be futile – after all, they walked through the ward one, he imagines they’d be able to do it again. As Oikawa said before, The Council insists on minimal contact with humans, but Keiji’s options are limited. Besides, his standing with The Council is fine: he ignores them and they ignore him. As long as no major violations occur, any infractions he commits will likely be overlooked

The one with silver hair slips off into the trees Keiji sees his chance. Talk to them, scare them or just convince them to turn around. It’s easy. Taking a breath, he lets the shadows fall away from him as he trails the mortal. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to post on time? Wow, it must be a miracle. Thank you for the comments on the last ones, they really mean a lot. Have a wonderful week and I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> No Content Warnings for this chapter

The Black Jungle is weird, Koutarou decides after hiking not even ten miles. 

They’ve been in the area for four days. Those days were spent back in the city – its name he’s already forgotten – looking for anyone who could guide them through the jungle. For every person they had asked, they had received one of two responses: the first being that the “lost city” was a bunch of bullshit and they should give, and the second being that there was no way in hell anyone will lead them through that damned jungle.

With each response, Koutarou found himself sulking more and more. What fun would this trip be if they didn’t actually go into the jungle and explore? Tetsurou managed to keep face with boundless energy and extra hope, but Koutarou had felt each response wearing him down a little bit more as well. Kenma, on the other hand, had looked more and more exacerbated and annoyed. By the third day in the city, the air between Kenma and Tetsurou stiffened as they walked out of their shared hotel room and met Koutarou in the hall and they shared less amused glances and more annoyed glared. By the end of the fourth day, however, Tetsurou had acquired a map and a guidebook for the area, and they were ready to head out.

Now, in the jungle, everyone seems more relaxed. Or Koutarou is more relaxed and he assumes Tetsurou feels the same way, what with all his puns and laughter. Kenma, though no longer grumpy, fell quiet after the first two miles, and remains as such, speaking only to point them in a new direction.

More than once they have found themselves off the path or winding back to a familiar clearing that Koutarou swears they already passed. He can’t help but think about the people back in the city, warning them of the “cursed” jungle, which sounded ridiculous at the time, but seems a bit too real for comfort now. The air hums with energy. Static electricity but lighter, harder to feel but more uncomfortable when he does. It raises the hair on the back of his neck and causes goosebumps to travel down his arms. And then it’s gone. Leaving Koutarou to look around and wonder if it was really there at all or only something in his head.

They stop in another clearing, this one new and denser. Tetsurou goes off to chat up Kenma and try to get him to laugh, or at least respond, he’s been awfully quiet and wide-eyed the last forty-five minutes, as if he sees something among the shadows of the trees.

Koutarou sets down his pack and pulls out his camera, clearing the lens of any moisture that has gathered there. His fingers drum across the buttons as his eyes dart between the trees. Something moves in the canopy above them. Two parrots, bright green with yellowed capped heads, dart out of the foliage, dancing around one another. Koutarou is quick raise his camera and is quicker to take three pictures. He hopes at least one will turn out okay (despite the fact that he never got a chance to adjust the exposure).

The parrots dart back into the trees, shrieking with laughter, and Koutarou glances over his shoulder. Tetsurou and Kenma are huddled together in quiet conversation. Koutarou can’t hear what they are saying, but there’s that look on Tetsurou’s face, the one that is so soft it’s almost malleable, and Koutarou finds himself slipping off into the trees. For their privacy, he tells himself.

The jungle itself isn’t as loud as the other ones he has been in, but it’s just as lively. The canopy sways and rustles and moves with life: parrots, monkeys, and who knows what else. Even the trunks of the trees are in constant motion, teeming with ants and beetles and bugs Koutarou has never seen before and isn’t sure he wants to see again. There’s always something to capture, some spec of life to be documented.

He’s careful to not wander too far into the trees, always aware of where he is in relation to his friends and just how far away he is. He doesn’t make it too far in before he sees another flock of parrots. These ones are scarlet macaws; their red, yellow and blue plumage is bright against the green foliage. They are loud and playful, and so very active it’s hard to keep them in frame. They must be foraging because they move from section to section of the canopy crying and cheering all the way.

Koutarou’s focus is so centered on the birds he almost misses the movement to his left. He doesn’t see it – his attention is, after all, focused on his camera and the birds overhead – but he hears the movement coming from somewhere over his left shoulder. He turns quickly, camera up, and finger poised over the shutter-release. What he finds on screen is not some animal stalking him, but a young man with messy dark hair and eyes as green as the forest.

Koutarou sucks in a breath, and the shutter goes off with a snap.

“I’m so sorry!” He stumbles over his words as he turns off his camera and lets it hang freely from his neck. “I thought you were an animal! I mean… you snuck up on me and I just figured that it was some creature. You’re not a creature or an animal I just _thought_ you were… I mean…”

The man remains quiet for a few painfully long seconds, and Koutarou wishes he could crawl into the ground and become a worm. “I am sorry for startling you,” the man says, voice rich and wonderful and soft, and Koutarou could probably scrounge up about a hundred other adjectives but he shouldn’t, not when the other man is watching him like he’s a specimen under a microscope.

“I-It’s.. uh... no problem,” Koutarou responds. “I’m sorry for taking a picture of you.”

The man’s eyes widen and drop from Koutarou’s face to the camera around his neck. “Is that what happened?”

“Y-yes?”

“I see.” The man studies the camera for a few seconds, before standing up straight and returning his full attention to Koutarou. Koutarou does his best not to shudder under the sudden intensity of his eyes. “Why are you in the jungle?”

“My friends and I are…” remembering the reaction they received for announcing their adventure, he feels safest saying, “hiking.”

“There are more of you?”

Koutarou nods. “Yeah, I’m here with my best pals Tetsurou and Kenma. They’re back in the clearing over there.”

“I would like to meet them,” the man announces.

“I… uh,” Koutarou blinks and looks the man over. He’s in a cream shirt with a neatly stitched hem. It’s slightly wrinkled and partly tucked into long pants caked in dirt. He doesn’t appear to be carrying anything, so it’s not like he could murder them. And he’s so pretty, who’s Koutarou to say now?  “Okay. Sure.”

Koutarou turns and starts back towards the clearing, and the stranger falls in line with him. After five steps he realizes that he should have at least introduced himself. He turns to glance at the man beside him and his breath leaves him. The filtered light of the jungle dances across the stranger’s tan cheeks in rustling patterns. His eyes, sharp and pointed, really do reflect the colors of the forest. He walks with grace and ease that befit and angle.

Koutarou is so wrapped up in studying this stranger and trying not to take a picture, he doesn’t notice the roots of the upcoming tree until he is tripping over himself. He doesn’t fall, thankfully, but he stumbles over the ground for a few seconds before catching himself, none-too-gracefully on a tree.

“Are you alright?” The stranger asks.

“Yes, sure. Fantastic. I’m fantastic,” Koutarou mumbles, straightening himself out.

The rest of the walk is silent, eerily silent. The stranger moves like a ghost, his steps barely making a sound. Koutarou does his best not to stare. He fixes his eyes on the trees ahead.

They part not a moment later, and the two of them enter the clearing side by side. Tetsurou and Kenma are seated under the same tree Koutarou left them. They’re talking about something, in hushed voices. Koutarou’s eyes fall to Tetsu’s lap, where a small, black handgun rests. Koutarou frowns, but before he can say anything, Kenma’s head snaps up.

Tetsurou looks up and stands with a laugh. The gun is gone, slipped out of sight. “We were starting to think we’d have to go find you.”

“Sorry,” Koutarou replies.

“No worries, just glad you made it back in one piece.” Tetsurou’s eyes drift over to the stranger, and, for a few silent seconds, he stares. “Who is this?”

“Uhhh…” Koutarou looks between his friends and their new guest. It occurs to him that he never introduced himself or asked for the stranger’s name. “I found him in the jungle.”

“And does your handsome friend have a name?”

The stranger studies Tetsurou, seemingly unbothered by the coy smirk and wiggling eyebrows. “My name is Akaashi,” he says.

“Pleased to meet you Akaashi,” Tetsurou strolls forward and holds out a hand. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

After an awkward second Akaashi takes Tetsurou’s hand carefully, as if afraid he’ll contaminate it somehow. Once that’s done, his eyes drift back to Koutarou. It takes Koutarou a few seconds to figure out what’s expected of him. He’s too busy saying Akaashi’s name over and over again in his head.

“Bokuto Koutarou,” he says, throwing his hand out. “Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

Akaashi takes his hand as carefully as he took Tetsurou’s hand. Akaashi’s hand is cool to the touch, and silky soft, as if he hasn’t done a day of work in his life. There’s a strength behind his fingers that Koutarou can feel as he pulls away.

Akaashi turns to the last member of their group. Kenma is watching their new acquaintance with an overt glare. When Akaashi meets his gaze, Kenma huffs and looks off to some part of the forest over to his right.

“That’s Kenma,” Tetsurou says easily, either unaware of the moment of tension or uncaring about it. “Don’t mind him, he’s just not very good with people.”

Kenma clicks his tongue and takes a long sip from his water bottle.

“So, Akaashi, what are you doing out here in the Black Jungle?” Tetsurou asks, after giving Kenma one last look.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Akaashi replies.

Tetsurou laughs. “Well, I asked you first. So what is it?”

There’s another pause where Akaashi studies the three of them again. Koutarou can feel his eyes in wide sweeping glances. Finally, he says, “I live here.”

Tetsurou tilts his head. “In the city?”

“No,” Akaashi says, “in the jungle.”

Koutarou and Tetsurou exchange a glance. Tetsurou turns to Akaashi with a confused look, masked by a wide smile. “You’re… a park ranger then?”

There’s another pause, and Akaashi tilts his head slightly as though considering his options. “Yes… I suppose it is something like that.”

Tetsurou’s confused look is overshadowed by bright eyes. “So you know the jungle very well then?”

Akaashi nods.

“Well enough that you could say… guide some people around, show them the sights?”

Off to the side, Koutarou doesn’t miss the way Kenma scrunches up his nose and casts another doubting look towards Akaashi. If the other man sees, he gives no inclination that it bothers him. In fact, he seems as skeptical as Kenma is and that tightens something in Koutarou’s chest. He doesn’t want this stranger to leave, not yet.

“Bokuto mentioned that you were just hiking.”

“We are,” Bokuto is quick to say, earning a small smirk from Tetsurou and a raised eyebrow from Kenma. “We’re just hiking, but I…” He glances down at the camera from his neck and holds it up. “I’m a wildlife photographer, Kenma and Tetsurou are my hiking team. We’ve been trying to find good spots to photograph the wildlife here because we’re… well, you know… but no one was willing to help us, so like… if _you_ could help us we might be able to take some good pictures.”

Akaashi’s interest peeks, at least Koutarou thinks it does. It’s near impossible to read the other man, but upon hearing the word photographer, something in his eyes brightened. “What do you photograph for?”

“A magazine,” Koutarou says.

“What magazine?”

Koutarou’s stomach twists and drops. He didn’t think this far ahead. Tetsurou leans casually against Koutarou’s shoulder and says with ease, “a small, local one back in our hometown. I doubt you heard of it.”

“I see,” Akaashi says. “What is it exactly that you want from me?”

“Just guidance,” Tetsurou says with a shrug, “Just to see where the most scenic areas are, perhaps the best spots to find wildlife. Just… an all-around tour, if you will.”

Akaashi nods but his expression remains cold and unreadable. “This jungle is very dangerous, you know?”

“So we’ve been told,” Tetsurou says through gritted teeth.

“It’s not safe to sleep out here,” Akaashi continues as if Tetsurou didn’t just say anything, “It would be best if you returned to the city to rest.”

“Sadly, it’s almost dusk. We wouldn’t be able to make it there before the sun sets and we got turned around a few times during the day. We wouldn’t want the same thing to happen at night.”

Akaashi raises a slender eyebrow. “Turned around?”

“Lost, almost,” Koutarou clarified, “But like… we didn’t. It was weird.”

Akaashi nods and looks up at the sky. It’s still blue, but its darkening around the edges, the jungle has quieted some, the birds aren’t making as much noise as before, but there is still movement in the foliage.

“So what do you say?” Tetsurou says, breaking the silence that befell the group. “Are you willing to help us?”

“I’ll consider it,” Akaashi says. One of his slender hands comes up and rests on his chest. It’s then that Koutarou notices the necklace, a light and woven strand with something round hanging off of it. Akaashi’s hand is there, so he can’t get a good look at it, but it’s pretty and very shiny, like nothing Koutarou has seen before. It has to be locally made.

“I must go,” Akaashi says suddenly, “I recommend that you camp here for the night. It is unwise to travel deeper into the forest.”

“So you’re not helping us,” Tetsurou says with a huff, and disappointment clouds Koutarou’s mind. He was looking forward to seeing Akaashi again and, perhaps, learning more about him.  

“I did not say that,” Akaashi replies, “We will speak again in the morning. For now, good night.”

Before Koutarou can call out an awkward and enthusiastic goodnight, Akaashi turns and vanishes into the trees. It’s as if he is swallowed by shadows. For a few seconds, Koutarou just stares at where the beautiful man disappeared, mind whirling. Akaashi was gorgeous and smart and sophisticated. He had this grace about him, so simple and regal. He really was an angel.

Koutarou is only pulled out his swirling thoughts by Tetsurou’s cheer. “We have a guide!” Tetsurou grabs Koutarou’s hands and spins him around, and in a second Koutarou is smiling too. “We actually have a chance to find this thing. Good save with the wildlife photographer thing, while you distract pretty-boy with pictures, Kenma and I were keep our eyes open for any clues. Lost City here we come!”

“This is a terrible idea,” Kenma says, through their cheers.

“Oh come on Ken. We have a guide! No more getting lost. No more potential problems with wild animals. He can help us with all of that!”

“I don’t like him,” is Kenma’s reply as he goes through his backpack. He’s already pulled out his sleeping mat and sleeping bag and is now pulling out the miniature cooking supplies they have with them.

“Don’t be such a sour-puss,” Tetsurou says, plopping down in the dirt beside Kenma and throwing his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Sure Akaashi is a little cold, but he doesn’t seem like a bad guy.”

“I just don’t like him,” Kenma repeats, rolling his shoulder to push Tetsurou’s arm off. He stands and starts towards the edge of the clearing. “I’m going to get us some water, I thought I heard a river this way.”

Koutarou’s gaze followed Kenma into the trees. He’s frowning now. Something about Kenma’s reaction doesn’t sit well with him.

“Don’t mind,” Tetsurou says, brushing himself off and walking towards his own pack. “You know how Kenma is around new people. Come on now, let’s get camp set up before dark!”

With one last glance towards the trees where Akaashi vanished, Koutarou nods and walks over to help Tetsurou


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short but important update. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> CW: none

By the time Keiji reaches the temple, the sky has darkened and night creeps in. Traveling is faster and more convenient with this new but familiar power. Still, by the time he climbs the last step, every part of him is exhausted and his limbs are heavy with a warm soreness he hasn’t felt in a few millennia

Oikawa and Suga are at his side in an instant. He’s not surprised they’re still here. Even though they don’t need his permission to return to the God Realm, he hadn’t for a second thought that they would leave him in the jungle alone, especially not after the incident from earlier.

“What the fuck what that?” Oikawa asks as the three of them start back towards the temple’s opening. “I thought you were checking up on them, not talking to them!”

Oikawa’s comment from hours ago still burrows under Keiji’s skin, rubbing him raw. He’s not sure he’s ready to forgive the god just yet, so he ignores the comment and trudges ahead of them.

“Keiji,” Oikawa calls. “Keiji wait.”

“I’m not going to wait for you to continue to berate my decisions,” Keiji snaps over his shoulder. “If we can have a conversation about this without you shoving ideas down my throat, then we can talk. If not, I don’t want to hear it.”

Oikawa opens his mouth then closes it again. He does this a few times, rather like a fish, though Keiji doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to push the other god’s buttons too much. Finally, Oikawa lets out a breath and says, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It was out of line.”

“And untrue,” Keiji adds.

Oikawa continues as if he hadn’t heard Keiji’s additional comment. “I was just worried about you, Keiji. You always build these things up for yourself and then-” Suga’s elbow lands somewhere between a pair of Oikawa’s ribs. The god grunts, glares, then continues. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Keiji exhales and nods. It’s hard to stay mad at Oikawa. He means the best, even if it comes out a little harshly at times. “I forgive you.”

“Wonderful!” Oikawa’s face lights up and suddenly he’s by Akaashi’s side, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Now I say this out of love and respect and kindness, but what the  _ fuck _ were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get a better read on them,” Keiji replies.

“But you didn’t have to agree to anything in order to do that!”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” Keiji says, slipping out from under Oikawa’s arm. “I said I would think about it. And I will. I’ll sleep on it and decide what to do in the morning. I’ll either lead them out of the barrier or take them through the jungle for a little while longer before leading them through the barrier.”

Oikawa frowns. “So you aren’t going to show them the city?”

“Of course not,” Keiji says, stepping forward to stand on the worn seal before his dais.

Oikawa follows and stands beside him. “So… what do they do?”

Keiji sends Oikawa a quick glance, unamused. “Why do you care? I thought you said that we shouldn’t worry about mortals.”

“We shouldn’t,” Oikawa responds, “but you already went down there and I want to know all about it. What do they do?”

“Photographers for a magazine,” Keiji says, walking forward. 

Oikawa claps his hands and trails after Keiji, keeping up easily with his long legs. “This is perfect! Think about the power you could get if they took pictures of your city and put them in a magazine. They could attract more people to your site, then imagine what you could do?”

“Do you only listen to half of what I say?” Keiji looks between his friends.

Suga at least looks apologetic for a second. Oikawa has the audacity to smile and continue as if Keiji hadn’t said anything at all. “You might be able to get your old powers back, or at least something close to them.”

“I’m not bringing them to the city,” Keiji says, arms settling across his chest. “I made a promise, and part of that is not letting mortals turn it into another tourist attraction. Look at what happened to Zeus’s temple or the city of Tenochtitlan!”

Oikawa doesn’t look convinced; he throws another arm over Keiji’s shoulder or tries to before Keiji bats it away. Without a moment’s pause he continues, “but with more power, you could restore your temple. Imagine not having to dust every fifty years. Imagine being about to make out this old seal, or actually see your face in that mural. Think about it Keiji.”

“What happened to not wanting me to interact with them?”

“Well it’s too late for that,” Oikawa shrugs, “so you might as well make the most of it now.”

Keiji rolls his eyes, takes in a quick breath, and lets the portal take them home.

It is dark in the Realm of the Gods. It should not be dark. The God Realm and the Mortal Realm rarely follow the same time or even season for that matter, for time does not exist for Gods as if does for mortals. Still, Keiji’s Artifact Room is pitch black as they step out of the shallow pool.

“Looks like our Little Sun God got into another fight with Tobio.” Oikawa laughs, actually laughs. 

Keiji just sighs. He’ll have to get the fae to bring him a lantern if he wishes to continue the work he left off. They make their way out of the Artifact Room, though it isn’t like there’s a lot that can be tripped over.

There are already lights hanging in Keiji’s garden, so Keiji, Oikawa, and Suga don’t struggle to find their way back to Keiji’s wing, though all three of them could probably walk there blindfolded by now. Oikawa marches ahead, mumbling about how amused he is at Hinata’s antics. Suga, on the other hand, looks concerned. Keiji feels bad that he isn’t, but it’s not as if sudden darkness is anything unheard of with the new Sun God.

“The good news is,” Oikawa says, suddenly walking beside Keiji, “that The Council will be too busy dealing with this mess to bother you with any possible repercussions.”

“Even if they had time there wouldn’t be any,” Keiji replies, “I didn’t do anything that was against their laws.”

Oikawa shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“Keiji, Oikawa,” Suga’s voice breaks into their conversation. “I’m going to go check up on Hinata and make sure he’s alright. If either of you need anything let me know.” Suga taps the glassy orb dangling from his neck as a reminder.

Before Oikawa or Keiji are able to wish him good luck or tell him goodbye, another voice breaks into the conversation. “I thought I would find you here.”

“What do you want, All High and Holy Lord Ushijima?” Oikawa says with a smile as sharp as a thorn and as bitter as hemlock.

Ushijima’s eyes pass over Oikawa, which only makes the God bristle more, and land on Keiji. “You never finished with the garden.”

“I am aware,” Keiji says with a dip of his head, “Something came up, but I was about to return and finish the rest of the work I had left.”

“What could have come up?” Ushijima asks, “You have nothing left in the Mortal Realm, why do you insist on returning? What could possibly matter there?”

Suga loops an arm around one of Oikawa’s, because the God of Passion still appears ready to snap. Keiji rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder and guides him back into place beside Suga. With that taken care of, he takes a step forward, chin raised. “I have a temple and a village to protect and something today threatened them. I am sorry for not finishing  _ your _ flowers, but I had something more important to deal with.”

In the corner of his eye, Keiji sees Oikawa beam, his cold smirk growing and eyes narrowing. Suga does a better job of hiding his pleasure by jabbing Oikawa in the side with a movement that’s almost too quick to make out.

“You should not worry about mortals in your Domain,” Ushijima says after a quiet moment of consideration. Keiji tenses, Ushijima did always have a way of walking through a topic as opposed to around it. “Especially if they are not there for you.”

“Speaking with mortals isn’t a crime, Ushijima,” Keiji says before he can think about it too much. “Just because you hole yourself away in your temple and disregard the people who come to pray to you, doesn’t make you greater than the rest of us.”

Something dark washes over Ushijima’s face. It almost appears to be hurt. Hot guilt twists around in Keiji’s chest, strangling his lungs, but before he can apologize, Ushijima says, “Be careful Akaashi, you do not have the Status you once did. The Council will not have as much patience with you. Sugawara,” the shift in attention is abrupt and throws all of them off, leaving Keiji’s mine a whirlwind of guilt, confusion, and frustration. “You may wish to go check on Lord Hinata. I saw him earlier and he appeared… upset.”

“Thank you, Ushijima,” Suga says stiffly, “I was just about to go do that.”

Ushijima nodded then gave the three of them a little bow. “I am sorry for interrupting. I hope I can count on you to at last finish the work you began, Akaashi.”

“Yes, of course,” Keiji says through the lump in his throat.

Ushijima leaves back through the garden, and only when he is completely out of site does Oikawa break into cheerful laughter. “That was brilliant, Keiji!” He says, throwing an arm over Keiji’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d ever grow a backbone.”

Keiji doesn’t allow himself to settle under Oikawa’s arm for long. He slips out quickly and starts down the path that Ushijima left along.

“Where are you off to?”

“I have work to finish,” he says, looking back briefly. “And I believe the two of you do as well.”

Oikawa frowns and Suga laughs, taking the other by the arm again. “We do. I’ll return this one when I go check on Hinata. See you later, Keiji.”

With one last wave, they part ways. Keiji walks past other Gods’ wings and gardens. The buildings themselves are of various sizes and shapes, fitting whatever needs the God have. Ushijima’s words turn round and round in his head. The most disturbing part is that they hold truth. Keiji’s interactions with mortals,  _ his _ mortals, all those centuries ago broke more than a few rules, The Council simply overlooked them because of Keiji’s Status. Without his power to hide behind, Keiji has always had to be more cautious, but that had never been a problem. Until now. 

Sharp eyes filled with passion, wild hair, wild way of speaking, Keiji forgot how amusing and animated mortals can be. With no understandings of eternity, they live their lives to the fullest and express themselves to the max. That was always his favorite part about them, their will and love of life and each other. He wishes he could say he lived the same way. Maybe he had… before he’d become a God.

Ushijima’s garden looms overhead. With a few rapid blinks, Keiji pushes the thoughts of mortals far away. As long as he plays it safe and keeps his distance, not much can happen anyway. The Council can reprimand him, but what could they do to him? He’s already lost his Status, it’s not like they’d strip him of his title, Domain, or power for talking with a few mortals for a few days.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week another chapter. This one was a lot of fun and rather ridiculous to write, so I hope you all enjoy!

Koutarou wakes just as the sky lightens and the jungle begins its day anew. He slips out of his sleeping bag and mosquito net and looks over the camp. Tetsurou and Kenma are still asleep, sleeping pads and nets side by side but not touching. He dresses quickly, snatches his camera, and slips out into the trees around their makeshift camp.

Birds are most active at this time of day when the sun hasn’t quite risen but the air is warm and light. There’s a peace in the air too, as if the jungle is waiting for something and is holding its breath. Or perhaps, it is just taking its time to rise and stretch. He looks for birds. Parrots are great, but he wants something more interesting, more fun.

The hummingbirds are out in full numbers this morning, and Bokuto spends his time chasing them, struggling to capture one on camera. _It’s odd_ , he thinks as he settles against the trunk of a tree, waiting for just the right moment when the hummingbird will turn towards him. It’s odd because while he has patience behind the camera, he lacks patience in other parts of his life. With volleyball, he can’t wait for the next set. With his friends, he can’t wait for their next adventure. With photography, he can wait a lifetime for the exact moment. With photography, he’s _willing_ to wait. If it’s for a perfect picture, waiting is well worth it.

The hummingbird turns and his finger presses on the release not a moment later. The shutter goes off with a soft click that echoes around the silent forest. The bird is gone, but when he checks the camera, the photo is there: a small emerald and purple hummingbird, hovering in midair, turning away from a flower. It’s something that might be seen in a magazine, and Koutarou beams.

He settles back against the tree and clicks through the photos that he’s taken in the last twenty-four hours. Bird after bird flashes across the screen. He can name most of them: a blue hyacinth macaw, a yellow-billed toucan, a half-a-dozen pictures of a pair of red-and-green macaws, an ibis he caught wading through the stream by their camp, another red-and-green macaw.

The next picture he clicks to isn’t of any animal; instead, it’s of a man. It’s a little zoomed in, and terribly framed with the top of the man’s head is barely cut off and nothing below his torso is shown, but it’s there. Even in such an awkward picture, Akaashi looks angelic. His dark skin appears to glow on camera, and his black hair twinkles like the night sky. What catches Koutarou’s attention, however, are his eyes. They are wide, clearly surprised, but there’s something in them. They glow emerald, shining like a pair of precious jewels. In the photo, they shimmer and glint like no eyes ever could, and Koutarou’s breath leaves him all over again.

There’s a crack and a step, and Koutarou snaps to attention. Akaashi hovers above him as though he emerged from the photograph himself. The only difference is his eyes, while still a beautiful shade of dark green, no longer shimmer.

“A-Akaashi,” Koutarou stammers, slamming the screen of his camera closed as he stumbles to his feet. “Where did you come from?”

“I was walking,” he replies simply, “and noticed you sitting. What were you doing?”

“Just looking at some of the pictures I took,” Koutarou says, letting the camera hang off his neck again.

“For your magazine?”

Koutarou’s gut twists and falls. “Y-yup.”

“I see.” Akaashi gives a rather forced nod. “Well, it is past sunrise, we should get going to try and cover as much ground as we can.”

“Yes,” Koutarou agrees with an enthusiastic nod. He almost points in the direction they should be heading, but Akaashi is already walking that direction. Instead, Koutarou falls into besides Akaashi. “What do you do? I mean, you mentioned that you work on the reserve, so like I know you do that, but what do you do for that?”

Akaashi’s eyes, which have been watching him with a bit too much intensity, flicker from him to the trees and then to the jungle itself. The man holds out a hand and lets his fingers tumble over the leaves and the foliage they walk past. “I manage and maintain the forest,” Akaashi answers softly and carefully. “I watch over it and keep it safe.”

“So like a guardian of sorts?” Koutarou says. “That’s so cool! Do you have to fight any bad guys? Do hunters or anyone come into the forest? What do you do with them? How do you get rid of them? What about jaguars? I heard those are pretty dangerous. Apparently, their fangs are positioned in such a way that if they come up from behind you and can pierce the back of your skull _and_ the base of your skull, snapping your brainstem.”

“Very interesting…”

“Right! They can also climb trees super well. Apparently, some jaguars hunt monkeys, which is like crazy, except that they’re better hunters on the ground, which is why most monkeys try and stay in the canopy as much as possible. It makes them less of a target. Some monkey species also have specific calls for when they spot jaguars so that they can warn the rest of their troop.”

Koutarou almost misses the fact that they are back at the camp. He probably would have kept talking and walking if it isn’t for Tetsurou.

“Hey! Akaashi, my dude, you actually came back!” Tetsurou calls as he finishes stuffing his sleeping back into his backpack. “And you brought Bo back as well. You two just keep running into each other, don’t you?”

Koutarou laughs along with Tetsurou, while Akaashi just hovers at the edge of camp nodding.

“So, have you decided?”

“I have,” the man replied. “I will guide you through the jungle, but not for very long.”

Tetsurou’s face lights up, and Koutarou finds himself beaming as well. “Hey, thank you so much. We go as long as you want us to, though we only have supplied for three weeks, max.”

“I was thinking one to two-”

“Two? Two works perfectly!” Tetsurou cheers. “Let us just finish packing up and then we’ll head out. You almost done there, Kenma?”

Kenma’s eyes snap from Akaashi to Tetsurou, his frown never leaves. With a huff, he returns to packing. As Koutarou scuttles off to shove all his items in his own pack, he hears Tetsurou speaking with Akaashi.

“Don’t you have a pack, man?”

There’s a pause, though Koutarou doesn’t get a chance to look up or see Akaashi’s expression. “I am a believer in traveling light,” Akaashi replies, “I use what the jungle offers me.”

“Whatever man, just know that I have two extra water bottles if you need them.”

There’s another pause, then a very soft, rather awkward, “thank you.”

  

They’re hiking through the forest not a half an hour later. Akaashi takes the lead, guiding them seamlessly through the trees. Before starting off he asked for any requests. Kenma had remained stubbornly silent and Tetsurou looked at him with an expecting smirk, so Koutarou sputtered out something about a river. And now, they are moving through the brush, far off the crappy trail they had been trying to follow.

Tetsurou and Koutarou remain side by side, joking as they go. Sometimes the way they’re traveling narrows down to the point where they are forced to go single file, but for the most part, they stick together. Kenma started in the back and has made no effort to join their games or conversation.

He hasn’t spoken since Akaashi joined them in the clearing. In fact, Koutarou isn’t sure he’s spoken since the night before. While this normally wouldn’t surprise him (it is Kenma after all) it’s the expression he wears along with his silence that is concerning. Whenever he looks in Akaashi’s direction, his eyes narrow into a piercing glare. He hasn’t even acknowledged their new guide. He just stares, occasionally, and then is off in his own world the rest of the time.

Tetsurou claims to be unconcerned about his childhood friend and housemate, but Koutarou doesn’t miss the looks he sends back to Kenma when he thinks no one is looking.

Aside from that, the day is good. They make lots of stops, per Akaashi’s request, for photographs. Somehow, the man has a way of finding animals, and soon it isn’t only birds that Koutarou is getting pictures of. Early in the morning, they stumble upon a troop of golden lion tamarins, and later on, they see a green iguana.

By the time they reach the river in the early afternoon, Koutarou is convinced that at least half of his first SD card is full, but he isn’t worried, only excited. There’s a reason he brought three. They settle by the river and unpack. According to Akaashi, it’s as good a place as any to set up camp, and the chances of seeing wildlife will increase come dusk and dawn.

While Koutarou is thankful for a long break - hiking in hot and humid weather is rough - Tetsurou’s frustration over stopping is well hidden but present. It isn’t until Koutarou reminds him that civilizations are often built near rivers that Tetsurou perks up some. Upon hearing this, Tetsurou grabs Kenma and drags him off on the basis of wanting to get a better look at the view. Akaashi lets them go without so much as a  blink in their direction.

“Is it safe for them to wander?” Koutarou asks once he realizes that he’s alone with Akaashi and needs to say something.

The man nods. “As long as they stay together and don’t go far, they will be fine.”

Before Koutarou can get another question in, Akaashi wanders off to the river’s edge.

Koutarou turns his attention back to his camera. He takes some pictures of the river and the jungle on the other shore, then lets his camera hang off of his neck again. Taking pictures of scenery is nothing like taking pictures of something alive and moving. The river and the trees are beautiful, yes, but they are missing that aspect of breath and life that Koutarou loves to capture so much. With photographing an animal or a person, there’s this element of spontaneity.

He knows how the trees will look after he’s taken a picture. Sure, he can change exposure and play with light and angles to tell a different story, but he knows what the final product will be. It’s different with living organisms. A person’s expression could change in a single snap, a head could turn, and wing could beat. When it comes to living things, a picture will always hold something new or unexpected.

Perhaps that is why he finds himself peering through the viewfinder with Akaashi sitting on the other side. The man isn’t aware of the camera, he’s too relaxed. He’s turned slightly so that Koutarou can only catch his back and the side of his face. His expression is unreadable, but everything about his body language, from the way his legs rest against the slope of the bank, to how his shoulders settle back, reads familiarity. This is a person in their natural habitat. This is a person in a place they call home. Even the plants seem to notice it. The reeds sprouting from the earth and vines hanging off of the trees reach towards Akaashi, as though longing to touch him.

Koutarou takes three pictures before he can help himself. He’s about to stand and shift slightly to try and catch Akaashi at a different angle (hopefully get more of his face), when there’s a string of curses, a scream, and a splash that come from farther down the river.

Koutarou is up and racing in that direction in a blink. He slides down the muddy slope, ducks under a few low-hanging branches, and follow the curve of the river. When the bank steepens, he stops, catching himself on a tree to prevent himself from sliding into the river and meeting a similar fate to Tetsurou. Tetsurou is sitting in the river, water only up to his chest swearing up a storm.

“Stupid fucking branch has to go be in my fucking way and then trip me,” he stands slowly and begins to wring out his shirt. “Some way to treat a guest!”

Kenma sits on the bank, watching with an expression that might actually be a smile. Koutarou raises his camera and snaps a picture. He’s about to take another one when he notices the water beside Tetsurou moving slightly as he adjusts the focus. Long ripples are being left, as though something is swimming just below the surface.

“Tetsu!” Koutarou calls.

Tetsurou looks up and glares. “Great, you came to laugh at me too?”

“Tetsu, there’s something by your leg.”

“Ha ha ha, very funny Bo,” Tetsurou yells back, continuing to brush as much mud and wet leaves off of himself as possible.

“No bro, I’m serious. There’s something there!”

“Holy shit, it’s a snake!”

A faint shape is swimming in circles around Tetsurou. Koutarou can’t see it well until it reaches his leg and begins to climb up it. The snake is brown, about the width of Koutarou or Tetsurou’s bicep, with large black spots down its back and sides.

“It’s a snake. It’s a fucking snake,” Tetsurou looks torn between trying to shake it off and trying to pry it off, but when he reaches for it, it opens its jaws and hisses at him, bearing whatever teeth it has.

Kenma is frozen at the top of the bank, looking between Koutarou and Tetsurou. Koutarou feels much the same way, and then the snake hisses again.

“Does it have fangs?” Koutarou asks.

“What!”

“Does the snake have fangs?”

“I don’t fucking know, I didn’t look that closely.” Tetsurou must move a little too much for the snake’s liking because it hisses again. “Nope! No fangs. Just a big ass mouth.”

“It’s just an anaconda then.”

“ _Just_ an anaconda?” Tetsurou yells back, and even at this distance, Koutarou can see his eyes bulging. “Oh hell no! Can’t this thing kill me?”

“It’s non-venomous, Tetsu. It can’t bite you. Or, well… it can, but it won’t poison you.”

“That doesn’t mean this thing can’t strangle me and then eat me!”

Koutarou sighs, “It can’t eat you. You wouldn’t fit in its mouth. Your shoulders are too wide”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t kill me trying!”

“Kuro, call down,” Kenma’s voice, though quiet, carries from the upper bank. “It’ll probably lose interest in you if you stop struggling.”

“Or it’ll decide I’m an easy target and continue to try and eat me anyway!”

Koutarou shifts slight and looks down the bank. It isn’t that far to reach Tetsurou. If he let go of the branch and let himself slide he might be able to make it… and then what? Trying to pry the snake off would just agitate it more. There’s also no telling how long it is… or how much it weighs. If they could distract it somehow..

“Tetsu,” Koutarou calls, “just… uh… breathe. I’m coming down to-”

“Everyone stop!” Koutarou freezes and returns to clinging to his branch. Over his shoulder, Akaashi appears over a second later. He slides gracefully down the slope of the bank and wades into the water without so much of a flinch. He makes his way to Tetsurou slowly. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes and only open them when I tell you to.”

Tetsurou nods and after a shaky breath allows his eyes to fall shut. Akaashi wades through the water until he’s about a foot or so away from Tetsurou and the snake. Rolling back his shoulders he lifts his hands and holds them in front of him as though he’s feeling for something in the air.

“Keep breathing” His voice remains calm and steady, like a constant wave brushing against a rock. “You will be fine. Just keep your eyes closed and breath. In and out. In and out.”

There’s something about the moment, so serene yet so raw. Koutarou lifts his camera and takes a picture; he doesn’t even look through the viewfinder, just trusts that Akaashi and Tetsurou are both in frame and in focus.

The snake, which had almost made its way to Tetsurou’s hip, is frozen in place and somehow enchanted with Akaashi. It watches him. It doesn’t sway, doesn’t move like those cobras do for the snake charmers. It only watches. Akaashi’s hands lower slowly and the snake follows, sliding back down Tetsurou’s leg and into the water. It dips under the surface, there are a few ripples and then it’s gone leaving only the gurgling of the river.

Akaashi stands, arms tense at his side, and then he exhales long and slow. “You may now open your eyes.

Tetsurou blinks then looks from Akaashi to his leg. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Nothing,” Akaashi says simply, “It was nothing.”

He turns and starts up the bank just as Koutarou lets go of the tree and starts sliding down the bank. As he passes Akaashi he doesn’t miss the way his hair sticks to his forehead or his tan skins pales, even slightly. There are sudden dark bags under his eyes, which Koutarou can swear weren’t there before. But as he makes his way up the bank and back around the river’s bend, he moves with the same grace as ever, and Koutarou wonders if he just mistook the shadows of the trees for a look of pure exhaustion.

“Bro, are you okay?” Koutarou asks once he makes it to the water’s edge. He holds out his hand and pulls Tetsurou up and out of the river.

“Yeah just… that was really weird. One minute there was something on my leg, the next minute, nothing. I didn’t know our guide was a built-in snake charmer as well!”

Koutarou laughs along with Tetsurou as they start back up the bank. Kenma is waiting for them, but his eyes aren’t on them, but on where Akaashi disappeared around the bend. He’s glaring again but doesn’t say anything as they walk back to camp.

Akaashi is gone by the time they reach camp. Koutarou wants to go looking for him, but they find a small note written in the dirt telling them to stay here for the night and that he’ll be back in the morning as long as they don’t get into the trouble. Tetsurou laughs and jokes that they must have stressed him out and now he needs a nap.

As they begin to prep for dinner, Kenma doesn’t stop frowning.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

The little girl stands, shivering and crying, surrounded on all sides by flames. Keiji presses towards her, but the fire claws at his skin, and the smoke clogs his nose. For every step he takes towards her the distance between them doubles. 

He wipes ash from his eyes, and the crying stops. The roar of the flames subsides, and the air turns quiet. When Keiji’s hand drops to his side and he blinks, the jungle is free of fire leaving an open blue sky above him and lush greenery around him. The little girl is no longer there. Instead, a taller figure stands ahead of him, presumably male by the width of their shoulders. But the shadows obscure their face, masking their features.

Keiji goes to call their name - they have a name? - but freezes when he finds himself looking into bright golden eyes. The longer he stares the more he’s aware of the way the figure’s body moves, shifting and morphing slowly into a body that isn’t entirely human. Keiji’s eyes drop and suddenly all he can see are snakes.

They’re everywhere, hanging from the trees, covering the floor until it is just a single, constantly moving mass. They tangle together until Keiji can’t tell where one starts and another ends. He takes a step forward or tries to, but they move up his legs slowly wrapping themselves around his body. When they reach his torso, they begin to squeeze.

He looks up. The figure stands, perfectly still covered almost from head to toe in snakes. Keiji’s chest constricts - he doesn't know if it’s the snakes or his own fear - but can’t push forward. He can’t even raise his arms. Every second that goes by, it’s like more of himself is drained away by the reptiles. 

He tries to reach forward one last time, but the figure is gone, replaced by a towering God with muddy, brown hair and stoney eyes. 

“This is what happens, Akaashi Keiji,” Ushijima says as the snakes wide around Keiji’s neck. 

Suddenly, Ushijima isn’t the only God standing in the clearing. In a blink, the other twelve members of The Council are there, forming a wall between Keiji and the rest of his jungle. Their faces are masked in shadows, but Keiji can only imagine their expressions.

“This is what happens,” they say together, their voices morphing into one, “To Gods who play with mortals.”

 

Keiji’s eyes flash open and he sits up, hands running up and down his arms and side, but they’re clear. There are no fangs, no scales, no snakes. His brain pulses against his skull, and he sinks back into bed with a groan. Bright light fills the room from almost every angle. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s sure he’s already late. He’s supposed to clean and cut Tsukishima’s garden, but perhaps the Moon God will take pity on him and let him sleep in.

The door flies open, and Keiji rolls over, burying his face in his pillows. 

“Oh, look Suga. He is alive!” Oikawa’s voice is too cheerful and much too loud.

“I told you he would be.” Even Suga needs to turn down the volume.

There’s the padding of feet and some not-at-all-quiet whispering that Keiji doesn’t bother to listen to. He buries himself farther into his pillows and pulls another over his head. A few seconds of peace and silence pass by when suddenly his covers are pulled back and his pillows are yanked away. He tries to latch on to one, but his arms ache when he tries to lift them even an inch off the bed.

“Wakey, wakey~” Oikawa sings. “Time to get your ass up and in gear!”

His whole being aches, but Keiji sits up slowly as to not disturb his head, and sends Oikawa the most fearsome glare he can muster. The God of Passion laughs and then stops short. Keiji wonders if he was more successful than he had thought he’d be.

“Keiji are you okay?” Suga asks carefully.

Keiji rubs his eyes. They just stripped his bed and took away his pillows, what do they think?

“Yeah, cause you look like shit.”

“Oikawa!” Suga snaps.

“I’m just saying. He’s normally so pretty, even in the mornings, but now he... Well, he looks awful.”

“I’m fine,” Keiji mumbles, but he isn’t sure if the sounds even come out of his mouth or not. “Just tired.”

“And dead-looking,” Oikawa adds. “Were you out in the Mortal Realm all night or something?”

“No,” Keiji pulls himself to the edge of the bed and swings his legs out, but he can’t bring himself to try and stand just yet. Instead, he rubs his eyes again and stretches. It’s not just his arms that are in pain, his entire body aches and groans with every movement he makes. “I actually got back earlier than expected.”

“Then what happened?” Suga asks.

“Over-exerted myself,” Keiji mumbles. “I’m fine.”

“What did you do?” Suga snaps, and Keiji’s head pounds.

“Too loud.”

Suga whispers, “What happened?”

“Just an incident with a snake. Had to influence it and used too much power. I’m fine.” Keiji goes to stand but his legs don’t move, they quake and bend under him like branches of bamboo. Suga’s hands find his arm and help to steady him. Keiji takes a few steps and leans against one of his bedposts. “Sorry, just give me a second.”

“Keiji, you can’t go out like this. Lie down and I’ll find some fae to bring you breakfast,” Suga says, gently pulling Keiji towards the bed.

Oikawa nods. “I’ll go tell that four-eyed twerp that you can’t work today and will go tomorrow.”

He turns, but Keiji is faster. Holding his ground against Suga’s parental urges, he reaches out and grabs Oikawa’s arm, pulling him back. “Don’t,” he means for it to sound sturdy and harsh, but it comes out as almost a plea. “I’m fine I just need to take it slow.”

“Keiji, you clearly pushed yourself way too far. If that’s the case you shouldn’t be straining yourself anymore.”

“If you tell Tsukishima, he is going to inform The Council. They can’t know about this,” Keiji says.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Have Ushijima’s words burrowed inside your head? Ignore them. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Just because he bends under The Council’s every breath doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t going to get into any trouble because you ran yourself dry for the first time, in what? Five or six centuries?”

“Ushijima was right, though,” Keiji says, and that earns him the full attention of both Suga and Oikawa. “All those centuries ago, I could go around and all break laws I wanted to because I had Status. Yes, I was a little reckless at times, but I had the power back up my actions, so that didn’t matter. I don’t have that power anymore. Visiting the Mortal Realm isn’t the problem, but being involved with the mortals is. The Council won’t ignore that, and I… I can’t deal with the repercussions right now. Besides, I still have a promise to keep, I can’t ignore that either.”

Suga guides Keiji to the bed and sits beside him. “If you’re worried about that, maybe you should take a step back. Let the mortals run their course and just make sure that they don’t find the ruins.”

“I can’t do that,” Keiji says to his hands. He can feel the weight of Suga and Oikawa’s gazes and is thankful when neither of them speaks or try to interrupt him. He has too many thoughts, too many ideas plaguing his already pounding mind, he needs to get them out before his brain erupts. “You both still have powerful enough Domains and humans who pray to you. I don’t. I haven’t had that in centuries, and I… I miss it.” He looks up and glances between the two gods. “Helping them yesterday, talking them down, calming them felt… right. Even if I used more power than I should have, it was worth it. I felt whole again and I-I want to hang onto that, if only for a little bit longer.”

A gentle hand comes and rubs circles into his shoulder and across his back. “I understand that,” Suga says softly, and Keiji wonders, not for the first time, why Suga is a God of Fortune and not a familial God. “Just, please promise me you’ll be careful. Like you said, The Council isn’t going to overlook this if they find out.”

Keiji nods. “I will be. Besides, it’s not like they’ll remember me once they leave for good.” He doesn’t know why his chest aches at the thought, it’s not like it’s surprising. A mortal will forget a God, unless that God reveals themselves to that mortal. 

Oikawa’s hand is not nearly as gentle as Suga’s and comes down hard on the upper part of his right arm, but it’s still just as warm and comforting. “I still think you should step back, but if you want to continue I won’t stop you. You have my support.”

Suga hums in agreement. “Mine as well.”

“Thank you. Both of you,” Keiji says, looking from one kind face to the other. “What time is it?”

“Just past one in the afternoon, why?”

Keiji lets out a controlled sigh. “I have to get to Tsukishima’s.”

Suga frowns but doesn’t stop Keiji when he stands. His legs no longer feel like bamboo, but more like damp wood, still sturdy but not very usable. It’s going to be a long day.

“Are you returning to the Mortal Realm again?” Suga asks as Keiji moves around his room to throw on a new loose set of tops and bottoms.

“Yes.”

“When you do, let me know and I’ll let you use my energy to portal you,” Suga’s voice is soft but stiff, leaving little room for argument.

Keiji huffs, slips into his boots, and grabs a small bag hanging off of his wall. Tossing it over his shoulder and gives Suga one last look. “Fine.”

 

If Tsukishima notices that Keiji is late, the Moon God doesn’t say anything, only gives vague instructions and tells him to finish as soon as he can. The Moon God’s garden is considerably smaller than Ushijima’s, but about twice as messy. With his powers exhausted and his body still sore, Keiji is forced to trim and clean everything by hand. Not that he minds. It keeps his mind busy and his body moving.

Keiji finishes trimming by late afternoon. He stands, dusts off his pants, and turns to leave when a quiet and freckled nymph appears at his side. The nymph holds out a tray stacked with fruits and cheeses and crackers.

“Tsukki said to give these to you,” the nymph says, watching Keiji through shaggy, moss green hair. “As a thank you.”

Keiji takes what he can hold and gives them a curt nod. “Bid your master a thank you from me.”

“Of course,” the nymph replies and waltzes away as though carried by a breeze.

Keiji eats on his way to his room and is thankful for the food. It wasn’t like eating in the Mortal Realm was an option. He gives Suga a quick call, and the god is there, waiting by his Artifact Room when Keiji rounds the corner.

“How are you feeling?” Suga asks, as the doors open and they step inside.

“Better,” is Keiji’s only response. He can stand. He can walk. But if another snake is to make a problem, it’s unlikely he’d even be able to raise a finger against it. Hopefully, the mortals know better now then to wade around in the river.

Keiji slips into the pool and Suga stands on its edge, arms extended. Carefully, Keiji places his palms against Suga’s.

“Call when you wish to come back. It doesn’t matter what time it is, I don’t want you draining yourself any further, alright?”

Keiji nods and is about to summon what limited power he has when his shoulders roll back and the bag at his side shifts. Keiji’s eyes dart to the small pouch hanging off his shoulder. He removes his hands from Suga’s and the other god blinks to attention.

“I have one more request,” Keiji says.

Suga’s entire face alights. “What do you need me to do?”

Keiji slips the bag off of his shoulder and holds it out in front of him. “Is it possible to make this bag look like some a human would carry around?”

“Like a purse or a tote or a backpack? You’re going to have to be more specific, Keiji.”

“A bag that a human might use if they are traveling or, say, hiking in the jungle for multiple days.”

“So a backpacking bag?” Suga specifies.

Keiji can only shrug. With no mortals in his domain, Keiji has had no reason to keep up with their inventions. He was aware of the big ones, or the ones the other gods would laugh at. But simple ones means nothing to Keiji, and there are too many to try and keep track of.

“It would look something like this?” Suga lets out a breath of air and there’s a silent second where it appears as though he is molding something out of thin air, or perhaps conducting a silent orchestra. Slowly, the bag held between Keiji’s hand shifts and expands. It never gets heavier, only appears to, and suddenly there’s a large pack dangling off of his fingers, light as a side bag. It’s bulky and brown and ugly, but looks strikingly similar to the pack Bokuto had been carrying the other day.

“Perfect,” Keiji says, throwing the bag over his shoulders. It’s so light he’s not sure he’ll remember that it’s there. “Thank you.”

Suga beams and holds out his hands. “Anything for a friend. Besides, I miss creation charms. I don’t have to use them as much as I used to.”

It’s times like this that Keiji remembers that Suga understands what he is going through, better than any of them. The other god may have a following, but it gets smaller every century. While Suga’s powers and Status are still greater than anything Keiji can recall, they too are nothing like what they used to be.

Keiji extends his arm out, palms up, and Suga places his palms atop Keiji’s. He breathes in once, feeling for Suga’s power and exhales allowing it to mix with his own. He’d rather not use too much if he can help it. He breathes in again and lets the warm, unfamiliar power envelop him.

When he opens his eyes he is alone in his temple. Soft hints of morning light pouring in from the front and Keiji is off and down the mountain in a second. The humans are right where Keiji left them, and this time they are mostly packed. Kozume spots him first, eyes snapping to his as he emerges from the shadows of the jungle. The man stares for a moment too long, as if trying to search for something, then frowns and looks away.

Something bubbles in Keiji’s gut, but he’s not allowed to linger on it long because Bokuto appears by his side almost instantaneously, much like the nymph earlier, though not nearly as gracefully. 

“Akaashi!” He yells, and suddenly a black screen is thrust into Keiji’s face. “Look at the picture I got of this ibis.”

Keiji is saved from responding by Kuroo. “Akaashi, you just made it in time. We were gonna start walking without you. And look! You actually have a pack this time.”

Keiji is swept up in conversation as they being their hike through the forest. Kuroo insists on hiking along the river for at least part of the day. His reason has something to do with photo quality and wildlife, and Keiji just nods and complies. As long as he can get them back into the forest before the ruins he doesn’t care.

For the most part, he leads, though there are times when Kuroo and Bokuto race ahead for one reason or another. It stirs something in his chest to watch them yell about a turtle or laugh and the strange shape of a scarab beetle. They may be grown, but they remind him so much of the children he once knew with their laughter and spirit. As long as they are hiking, however, Keiji doesn’t let himself dwell on such thoughts.

They stop by the river for lunch. Keiji lets his pack drop and it hits the ground with an exaggerated huff. He’s happy for it to be off his back. Though it is feather-light, it’s still blunky and more annoying than anything. As he sits beside it, he catches Kozume’s sharp gaze.

“What are you carrying?” The human asks, voice sharp as an arrow’s point.

It catches, Keiji off guard, for he cannot think of a time when Kozume has specifically addressed him. “Only what is needed,” Keiji replies carefully.

Kozume’s eyes narrow, but before he can say anything, Kuroo sits between them. “I have a few questions about the jungle,” he says without so much as a pause. “And as our guide, I was hoping you could answer them for me.”

Keiji nods, though the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

“How long have you lived in the Black Jungle.”

“For as long as I can remember,” Keiji replies smoothly.

“So you would say you know this area very well?”

“Certainly.”

Kuroo nods and turns slightly so that he is no longer looking at Keiji but over the river. “What do you know about the ancient civilization that used to live here?”

Keiji’s stomach twists and for a moment he forgets that he must breathe. These people, these mortals, they shouldn’t know of any civilization that lived here. As far as they should know there never anything here. That’s what the ward was for.

Keiji turns slightly to study Kuroo’s expression as he says, “Only that it is a rumor and a far-spread one by the sounds of it.”

There is a brief moment where he thinks he sees Kuroo frown, but the moment passes in the blink of an eye. “I see,” Kuroo nods. “So you really don’t know anything?”

Keiji shakes his head. “Only as much as anyone else does. Why do you ask?”

“When you found me in the river, it was because I found this.” There are a few seconds where Kuroo is shuffling through his pocket and then he stops and presents what looks like a flat stone. “I study ancient languages – an old hobby of mine – but this doesn’t look like any language I’ve seen. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this symbol, but it doesn’t sound like you’ll be able to.”

Keiji takes the flat stone with trembling fingers. Looping lines encompassed by dots are carved into the surface of the stone. Keiji’s heart pounds against his chest and he is suddenly thankful that humans have weak ears. His finger traces the symbol once more, to check that it is real, and then, all to quickly, he drops the stone back into Kuroo’s waiting hand. 

“I apologize,” he says standing. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Ahh well,” Kuroo lets the rock slip out of view into his pocket, “thought that would be the case.”

Keiji gives a soft hum and starts towards the water’s edge before he can be dragged into another conversation that hits much too close to home. As he walks, he feels Kozume’s gaze hot on his back, but it is gone the moment he slips down the slope towards the river.

Perching himself on a rock, Keiji watches the water flow by calmly and steadily, but all he can see in the symbol. His fingers trace its shape absent-mindedly over the rock’s surface. It’s been centuries since he’s had any reason to read the ancient script of his people; it’s amazing that he still knows it. Though even after two millennia, it’s hard to forget one’s own name.

He’s so lost in thought he almost misses the soft click that comes from over his shoulder. He’s paying just enough attention that it pulls him from his mind enough to make him turn. Bokuto watches him sheepishly, blushing a light pink in the way only humans are apt to do.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, “I didn’t mean… I just… you looked so peaceful.”

“It is alright,” Keiji says. “I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Bokuto says, eyes wide. “You don’t mind pictures?”

Keiji shakes his head. He isn’t sure he’ll ever truly understand humans, making such big deals over such little things. Though perhaps this is what mortality does to them. “I do not mind, Bokuto.”

Bokuto smiles and there’s a moment that feels like Keiji is looking at the sun, which is strange because he has seen Hinata many times, and the Sun God never has never had this effect on him. He decides to blame it on his lingering exhaustion.

“Can I sit with you?” Bokuto asks

Part of Keiji wishes to be alone, if only so that he can lose himself in memories of the past, memories that the Gods’ Realm fails to conjure. But he shifts over anyway. Bokuto plops down on the rock, a bit too close for comfort, but Keiji doesn’t say anything, simply lets the human into his space.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asks after a short moment of silence.

The question takes Keiji aback, but he nods anyway. “Yes, of course. Why?”

“Before, when I was taking a picture of you, you looked peaceful but also… sad, like you were longing for something or missing someone.” Bokuto clamps a hand over his mouth, the pink tinge returning to his cheeks. “Sorry, that’s rather personal, isn’t it? Just ignore me if you want. I didn’t mean to pry.”

For as silly and clumsy and overall ridiculous as Bokuto is, he is more observant than even he seems to be aware of. Keiji stores that fact away for later. He’ll need to be more careful in the future if these keeps up.

Keiji turns to Bokuto, who is watching him closely, waiting for an answer, and says, “It is nothing you need to worry about.”

Before Bokuto can even open his mouth, another figure appears beside the rock they are seated on. “Kenma is done eating, so are you two ready to go?” Kuroo asks.

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto replies, slipping off the rock and performing a rather strange greeting that consists of him and Kuroo knocking their closed fists together. Keiji has seen them do it every day but has yet to find a pattern around it.

Bokuto turns back to Keiji and holds out a hand with a smile. “Ready, Akaashi?”

Taking a deep breath and letting out a silent sigh, Keiji rises to his feet and uses Bokuto’s hand for balance as he slips off the rock. Bokuto’s fingers are rough and warm against his own in a way that is still surprising. Keiji sometimes forgets just how much humans must work with their hands. It was the same all those centuries ago, but this roughness feels… different. Keiji can’t place it.

Keiji goes to pull away but stops. Bokuto is staring at his hands with a sort of wonder and fascination Keiji isn’t sure he’s seen. It’s not the same way that the village children would inspect his hands like they were something foreign. Bokuto looks at his hands with soft wonder and gentle amazement.

When he catches Keiji staring and swallows and gives a small smile. “They’re so smooth,” he says by way of explanation.

Keiji takes his hand back slowly, ignoring the warmth that travels through his fingers and up his palm.

“Ready?” Kuroo calls.

Bokuto jogs to catch up with him, giving Keiji a moment to catch his breath and sooth his pounding heart. It’s the exhaustion, it has to be.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter a day early and without one last look over because I have two finals tomorrow and simply do not have the time. Hope y'all enjoy!

Akaashi arrives at their campsite sometime after dawn and vanishes before dark every day. While it’s a bit odd, their guide explained his need for privacy. Koutarou can’t blame him. He’s been living alone in the Black Jungle all this time, so of course he needs time by himself. And yet, there are some days when Akaashi returns and looks more exhausted than he did the day before. Still, he manages to brush off Koutarou’s questions and Tetsurou’s inquiries without batting an eyelash and walks with the assurance and grace as always. It’s strange, but Koutarou can’t question it. After all, he’s saved them more times than anyone cares to admit.

The only person who hasn’t warmed up to Akaashi is Kenma. While Kenma always seems to be watching their guide, he rarely speaks to him. When he does, his questions are short and pointed, digging at something Koutarou can’t see and doesn’t understand. Akaashi never looks bothered though, so Koutarou figures that it is nothing terribly personal. Then again, Akaashi never looks bothered by anything so Koutarou doesn’t know what to think.

The person who is most bothered by Kenma’s behavior is Tetsurou. They never talk about it, and Tetsurou doesn’t mention anything when Kenma shoots another glare in Akaashi’s direction, but Koutarou knows Tetsurou. They’ve been friends for too long, they can read each other too well. As hard as Tetsu tries to hide it, he’s clearly bothered, and Koutarou doesn't know how to help.

“I don’t understand it,” Tetsu says as he works over the fire, boiling water. “Kenma can be grumpy, but he normally doesn’t care enough to be this outwardly unfriendly. He might not like people all the time but he’s never this… outspoken about it.”

Koutarou nods along, but in truth he doesn’t know what to do about it either. He’s known Tetsurou for longer than he has Kenma. It’s not that he isn’t friends with Kenma, it’s just that he’s is hard to talk to. That’s probably mostly due to Koutarou’s own loud and excitable personality, but Kenma always seems so… quiet. He’s hard to read (not nearly as hard as Akaashi though), and just seems to fade into the background at times.

Unsure of what to say, Koutarou rests a hand on Tetsurou’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll all work out. He’s still talking to you, so he’ll open up eventually.”

Tetsurou smiles at him. “Thanks, bro.”

After more than a week of hiking, Koutarou practically forgets what they came to the Black Jungle for in the first place. He loses himself in the trees and the fresh smells and the animals - mostly the birds. The birds are amazing, ranging from every shape, size, and color he could ever imagine.

Akaashi knows them all by name. He’s better at spotting them too. It’s like he has a sixth sense for what birds are around them at any point in time. He has so many stories and facts about them too, Koutarou could listen to him talk about different types of birds for days. But he could listen to Akaashi talk about anything for days and be completely engrossed.

They left the riverbank some time ago and reentered the forest. The trees extend high above their heads, blocking much of the sunlight. The lack of light makes the jungle floor strangely cool. It’s still warm but not unbearable. The walk is quiet as they move through the trees and along worn paths that aren’t actually paths. Akaashi continues to move through the trees with grace, but Koutarou catches his feet dragging slightly or his footing slip. He remains alert, but his movements aren’t as sharp as they were the week before. And there are even faint dark patches under his eyes.

Koutarou is torn between asking what is wrong – and being either ignored or talked around – and pretending that everything is fine – as they have been doing the past three days. Kenma certainly notes the change, for his glasses have less tension behind them and more suspicion. If Tetsurou notices Akaashi’s growing exhaustion, he says nothing. It’s hard to say.

While normally one for details and odd observations, Tetsurou’s awareness has been lacking. His tensions have shifted over the past few days from the greenery and sights around him, to the stone he’s kept in his pocket. He pulls it out again when they’ve stopped for a water break, and sometimes after dinner when they are sitting around the fire, he’ll hold it up and stare at it as though it is some puzzle meant to be solved.

As they stop for another break, Tetsurou plots down beside Koutarou and passes him the stone once more. “This has to be something, don’t you think?” He asks, his voice a whisper. “This symbol is like nothing I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t resemble anything the nomadic tribes in the area would write. It has to be from a civilization that was based in this area.”

Koutarou puts on a smile for his friend. In truth, he isn’t sure what to say, nor does he understand anything about the civilizations Tetsurou is so enthralled with.

“Could be a clue,” Koutarou says and Tetsurou hushes him quickly, eyes darting around. “What?” Koutarou frowns. “Do you not what Kenma-”

“I’m not worried about Kenma,” Tetsurou says quickly, he looks up, then leans in so that their foreheads are close to bumping against one another. “The last time I brought this up with Akaashi, he got very cold and standoffish.”

Koutarou frowns. “I don’t think you have to worry about Akaashi. I mean, he knows the area, I’m sure he could point you in the right direction if you really wanted-”

“Besides,” Tetsurou says, standing up and dropping the rock back into his pocket. “Worrying about ancient civilization isn’t very photographer-like is it?”

He bends down to grab his pack and throw it over his shoulder, and Koutarou stands to do the same, when Kenma, who is a bit farther ahead of them, drops his bag with a quiet gasp and jumps back.

“Kenma?” Tetsurou is quick to abandon his own back and make his way across the clearing to his friend. Koutarou drops his pack to do the same. “What is it?”

“There’s something in my bag,” Kenma answers quietly, voice shaking. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Well, it can’t be anything bad,” Tetsurou says, crouching down in front of the bag. “Let’s open it back up and have a look.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

The three of them freeze and look up. Akaashi makes his way down through the trees. When they had all dropped their packs for a rest he had vanished, and Koutarou had been wondering if that was it for the day. It wouldn’t be the first time Akaashi had left them in the middle of the afternoon. He’s grateful to see that isn’t the case.

“If we empty the bag, shouldn’t it be fine?” Tetsurou asks. “It isn’t like I plan on sticking my hand in there or anything.”

“Sudden exposure and movement like that could still frighten the animal. If agitated, depending on what it is, it could be more likely to attack,” Akaashi explains as he sets his own pack down with a thump and steps in front of them.

“I’ll just grab my gun then, and we can-”

“No,” Akaashi snaps. He takes a breath then continues, “Let me take a look.”

Kenma’s mouth forms a thin line, but he’s the first to step away from his backpack, and Tetsurou reluctantly retreats with him. Koutarou takes a step back and shifts his position as Akaashi walks around the pack. His fingers itch for his camera, so he picks it up slowly and takes off the lens cap, storing it in his pocket.

Since that day by the river, Akaashi hasn’t mentioned anything about Koutarou’s habit of picture taking, nor has he asked to see them, which Koutarou is thankful for, because for each picture he has of the jungle he has another one of Akaashi. Sitting by the river, walking along the jungle floor, leaning against a tree, everything Akaashi does holds some meaning, some message that Koutarou longs to understand. Every carefully controlled reaction is another side of Akaashi that Koutarou wants to capture and remember forever. It probably isn’t good that a ‘nature photographer’ is taking more pictures of his guide than of the nature itself, but Koutarou can’t help it.

Akaashi ends up approaching the bag from the side, tilting it carefully away from him. Without taking his eyes off of the bag he asks, “what compartment do you think the animal is in?”

Kenma points and then seems to realize that Akaashi isn’t going to look his way. “It’s in the largest section, I think,” he says.

Akaashi opens the top of the bag slowly and tilts the backpack. A few items fall out – a sock and a snack bag – but there’s no movement. Akaashi shakes the compartment again and then, after taking a quick breath that Koutarou almost misses, turns the entire pack upside down, spilling all of its belongings onto the forest floor.

With the various clothing and bedroll, comes none other than a bright green snake, half wrapped in one of Kenma’s shirts.

“That’s what I was going to do,” Tetsurou mumbles, “why did you have to do it?”

“Have you ever dealt with a venomous snake?” Akaashi asks.

Tetsurou takes a small step back, eyes wide. “V-venomous?”

Koutarou stands his ground but zooms in with his camera to focus on the snake. It’s bright green, almost more vibrant than the foliage around them, and its head is shaped like a diamond.

“A palm pit-viper,” Koutarou says then looks to Akaashi. “Right? I’m not very good at identifying snakes. Most of them all look the same to me, but I read a lot about pit-vipers before coming here.”

“You’re correct,” Akaashi says, and Koutarou feels his chest swell with pride.

“They’re in the same family as diamondback rattlesnakes,” Koutarou continues before he can help himself. He just wants to show Akaashi what he knows and learn what he doesn’t. “Normally they’re a… air… uh?”

“Arboreal?” Keiji supplies.

Koutarou’s face lights up. “Yes! Normally they’re arboreal so-”

“Is now really the best time to be spewing facts?” Tetsurou asks. “There’s a snake and it’s potentially venomous. I think all that matters right now is getting rid of it.”

Akaashi clicks his tongue and says, “Hand me a stick.”

“What?” Tetsurou gapes and Koutarou himself is taken aback by the sudden statement.

Kenma blinks. For the first time in weeks he’s not glaring at Akaashi. That isn’t to say he looks comfortable, he just isn’t glaring. looking at the guide with a puzzled and doubtful expression written all of his face. He doesn’t look trustful of Akaashi, but his expression is less pinched and more relaxed.

Akaashi, eyes still focused on the viper, which is now coiled and hissing, holds out his hands in front of him in much the same way he did with the anaconda earlier in the week. Sweat prickles across his brow, and, after a moment, one hand drops to his side and another extends out to the side.

“Someone hand me a stick.” Akaashi’s voice is still quiet yet commanding in a way Koutarou has never heard it before. His face is still voice of all emotion except the slightest bit of determination. There’s an extra glint in his eye, an expression Koutarou hasn’t really seen on the man before and it perks his interest and gets him holding his camera closer to his chest.

Koutarou bends slowly, eyes still on Akaashi, but realizes quickly that sticks cannot just be picked up in a jungle; they must be found, apparently. He pulls his gaze away and turns to looking while Tetsurou and Kenma are still exchanging puzzled expressions. It takes a few extra seconds for him to find what he’s looking for, but when he does he tosses it to Akaashi, who only looks up for a moment to catch it. The stick isn’t very long, nor very wide, but Akaashi gives it a glance over and doesn’t toss it aside so it must be worth something.

Slowly, Akaashi bends at the knees, reaching forward and there’s a second when Koutarou thinks he’s reaching for the snake. Instead, Akaashi grabs a shirt that landed not far from him. Without a moment of hesitation, he dumps the shirt over the snake, then, as quickly as he can, moves to the side and presses the stick down across the shirt and, in turn, the snake.

Once the creature is immobilized he hovers, still squatting rather awkwardly beside the snake, one hand pressing lightly against the stick, one hand outstretched. Through the camera lens, Koutarou could almost swear that his hands were shaking. He stays like that for a few seconds, hand outstretched, eyes searching for something Koutarou can’t see through the camera lens. After taking a deep breath, he reaches forward and grabs what appears to be the snake’s head through the shirt.

The viper thrashes, and Keiji grabs hold of its tail as it whips around. Akaashi holds the snake out, as though he isn’t sure what to do with his. One hand is still wrapped around the viper’s head and the other slowly moves down its body. He takes a few deep breaths that can be seen in his shoulders, his eyes never leaving the snake

The thrashing only lasts a few seconds, and suddenly the snake is limp and calm in Akaashi’s hands. The guide closes his eyes and sighs, tension leaving his shoulders as he does so. He turns, walks slowly to a tree with a dipped branch, and places the viper down the utmost care. There’s a second when the snake just stares up at Akaashi as though saying a final farewell before turning and slithering away up the tree.

Akaashi takes a step back, shirt still in hand, and lets out a long breath that can be seen in the motion of his shoulders. As Koutarou lowers the camera, he realizes that Akaashi’s hands are still shaking.

“You know, when I said I was going to do the same thing, I meant dumping the bag. I didn’t mean picking the damn snake up!” Tetsurou is the first to break the silence. He looks at Akaashi the same way people look at sword swallowers in the circus, with a mixture of horror and wonder. “I would have just let the thing go, why bother touching it? You could have been bitten.”

Akaashi turns around, his expression even as always, but Koutarou doesn’t miss the sweat that is dripping from his temples. There’s also a  twitch in his lips, and his hands tremble ever so slightly as he unballs his fists. “I was, however, not bitten.”

“But you could have been!”

“It is fine, and it is taken care of,” Akaashi says in lieu of an answer. “Would you rather have had me wait to see if it would slither towards one of you?”

Tetsurou lets out a snort of a laugh and shakes his head. “Are all jungle guides this weird?”

“You tell me,” Akaashi replies as he walks back to the pile of Kenma’s things that had been dumped on the ground. “Aren’t you a group of traveling photographers? I’m sure you’ve been to more than just this jungle.”

“I meant in this area,” Tetsurou says with a cough. He joins Akaashi a moment later and begins to fold and repack the backpack, taking back the cloths Akaashi has so carefully folded. “Are all guides in this area as weird as you are?”

Akaashi shrugs “I wouldn’t know.”

 

The rest of the day is not nearly as eventful. There are no more snakes, and there are very few other interesting instances or creatures to capture on camera. The hike is also quiet. Kenma has yet to say anything to Akaashi since the pit-viper incident and Tetsurou has long since let his jokes lie. His attention drifts from whatever is in his pocket – probably that stone – to something far away. Koutarou spends a few moments watching Tetsurou, but for the first time since they met, Koutarou doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

For at loud as Tetsurou usually is, he as a way of falling into unsettling silence. Every joke Koutarou makes, Tetsurou smiles, but a moment later, he’s back to staring into the depths of the jungle as if the trees will tell him something. Koutarou tries to busy himself by fiddling with his camera, but nothing through the lens catches his eye. Eventually, he forces himself to put the camera down and appreciate the jungle.

The terrain is still mostly flat, but there are a few hills every couple of miles or so. There was a mountain Koutarou recalls seeing when they flew in. In fact, he probably has a picture of it from the plane: rocky and surrounded by dense trees. He wonders if they are heading towards that.

They stop near a stream to set up camp for the night. It’s still a dense part of the jungle, but they can wedge themselves between two trees, set up their nets, and be safe; Akaashi assures them of that. Koutarou and Tetsurou place their packs off to the side to be hung away from where they are sleeping, and when they rise, Akaashi is gone as if he had never been there in the first place.

Kenma is still standing at the edge of the stream, eyes focused on a spot amongst the foliage. “He did it again,” Kenma mumbles as he sets his own pack down.

“He did what again?” Tetsurou asks, pulling his sleeping bag and net from his backpack. “Save us?”

“No,” Kenma mumbles. “He vanished. Didn’t either of you notice? He was standing there, between those two trees, to the right of that bush, and then he was gone. It was… the shadows came and swallowed it.”

Tetsurou laughed. “This isn’t one of your horror games, Kenma. No one just gets swallowed up by shadows.”

“I’m telling you that’s what happened,” Kenma insists, “One second he’s there, the next he’s gone. It’s not like he walked away. He was standing still and then he vanished!”

“I think the snake-incident is getting to you,” Tetsurou says calmly. “Humans don’t vanish. I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”

Kenma just frowns and sends Tetsurou a sharp glare.

“I know you don’t like him,” Tetsurou continues, hesitating only a moment after seeing Kenma’s expression. “But he’s a nice guy, if a little weird. He seems smart though. Try talking to him I’m sure you two could get along.”

“Yeah!” Koutarou pipes in as he sets up his own sleeping bag and net. “He’s super smart, Kenma, and knows like everything. He’s really quiet at first but once you get to know him he’ll talk a lot more and-”

“I don’t care if he’s nice,” Kenma says, arms folding across his chest. “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something from us. You saw him with the snake today.”

Tetsurou raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. I mean, that was crazy, but he did save your ass.”

Kenma huffs. “He’s never handled a snake before.”

Tetsurou sends Koutarou a questioning look and Koutarou shrugs. Sure Akaashi seemed nervous, but who wouldn’t be handling a venomous snake, especially a pit viper known for their speed and temperament. Akaashi was probably more aware of the danger than they were.

“I don’t follow,” Tetsurou replies, looking back to Kenma.

“He threw a shirt over it, immobilized it, and then what?”

“He picked it up?” Tetsurou says. “I mean… it was a fucking ridiculous thing to do, but he knew what he was doing when he did it.”

Kenma shakes his head. “He had to find the head. If he had handled the snake before he would have been watching for where the head was, but he had to find the head and then he was afraid to pick it up. He was afraid to get bitten.”

“It was a fucking viper, of course he was afraid to get bitten!”

“He didn’t quite know what he was doing,” Kenma continues, “and he guessed and he was worried he guessed wrong. That’s what happened. That’s what I saw.” Kenma let out a long breath and then continued, quieter, “He’s hiding something from us, you can feeling it too.”

Kenma’s eyes are focused solely on Tetsurou who sighs. “Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean-”

“Don’t talk yourself out of this,” Kenma continues. “I know you like him, but I also know that you brought up that stone that you found. He still hasn’t said anything about it yet, has he? And he also guided us away from the river. He also avoided talking about the other reserve workers today. He always avoids talking about himself.”

“Stop it!” Koutarou finally snaps. “Just because you don’t trust him doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He’s private and keeps to himself- that doesn’t mean he’s lying to us.”

“You’re defending a man you know nothing about. Why?”

“Because he’s nice and has helped us so much. _If_ he is lying, he isn’t the one. We are too!” Koutarou snaps and looks between his two friends. “And we do know things about him. Akaashi is incredibly intelligent and kind and compassionate. He has a way with animals. He works on the reserve. He grew up in the area.”

“Did he?” Kenma asks. “Did he grow up here? Do we know that for sure, or is that just a guess? Has he ever really told us what he does for the reserve or what his past was like? What about his family? Does he have siblings? These are simple questions, and yet we can’t answer a single one for him.”

Kenma has a point… the more Koutarou thinks about it the less he knows about Akaashi. He shakes his head. “Just because he doesn’t want to talk doesn’t make him a bad person,” Koutarou says, though he’s aware that his voice is getting smaller and smaller. “There are some topics that people don’t like to talk about.”

“I have to agree with Bo on this one,” Tetsurou cuts in, looking between them almost frantically. “Some people don’t like talking about certain things and we should respect that. But I will say this; I do think he’s hiding something. I just don’t know what.”

“But we’re hiding something too,” Koutarou insists, “It’s not like any of us actually work for a magazine! Besides, it’s not like we’ve really _asked_ him about himself either.”

“Then we’ll do that tomorrow,” Tetsurou says quickly before Kenma can snap back. “We ask him some question tomorrow and see if he answers or ignores it, sounds good?”

Kenma scrunches up his nose. “Fine, but don’t expect to learn anything from him,” he says and turns back to his pack.

Tetsurou meets Koutarou’s eyes and gives him a small smirk. “You were certainly defending him there, weren’t you? And complimenting him.”

Heat slowly rises to his cheeks, and Koutarou turns his attention to detangling his net and setting it up over his sleeping bag. “Akaashi is nice,” he mumbles.

Tetsurou just laughs and pats him on the back. “Well you have less than a week of his _niceness_ , so enjoy it while it lasts.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a bit late, my update schedule is a little wonky now that I've started my summer job, but I will try my best to stay on time. Hope you enjoy this update!

Oikawa pounds his fist against the table and then drops his head against his arm. The plates rattle on the table, and the rack stacked with fruits and mini-sandwiches sways. “You actually threw a shirt over it and then picked it up?”

Keiji lets out a long and silent breath. “What was I supposed to do?”

Oikawa peers up from his hands, eyes shining with unshed tears of laughter. “Oh, I don’t know, it isn’t like you have the ability to influence wildlife or anything. But instead, you threw a shirt over it. A shirt! Suga could you imagine?”

“I told you I didn’t have enough energy, and I wasn’t going to risk draining myself for the second time in a week,” Keiji says.

“That was probably the smart thing to do,” Suga agrees, but he can’t hide the strain of his cheeks as he tries to contain a smile.

“Could you have grabbed the thing then, if it bit you, told them it wasn’t venomous?” Oikawa asks as he sits up again, wiping away whatever was still in his eyes.

“They’re wildlife photographers, they’re able to recognize a venomous snake.” Keiji’s mind slips to Kuroo and his shocked expression and hearing it was pit viper. “Or… most of them are. I wasn’t going to attempt to lie to them either way.”

Oikawa huffs and plucks a grape from the rack, popping it into his mouth. “They’re mortals Keiji; they’ll believe anything as long as it’s said loudly and with enough confidence.”

“The same can be said about Gods, you know?” Keiji says, standing.

Oikawa pouts as he grabs his small bag, which as the moment looks like what it actually is – charms are less effective in The Realm of the Gods especially when one knows how to look through them.

“Off already?” Suga asks.

Keiji nods.

“We’ll walk you to your Room,” Oikawa says and Suga rises almost instantly.

“That is not-”

“Nope! We’re not hearing it,” Oikawa says with a wave of his hand. “Besides, what else are we going to do? It’s not like there’re any meetings today that are worth attending.”

Keiji rolls his eyes. “You would say that every day if it weren’t for Iwaizumi.”

“Hajime would agree with me. Our little Sun God is calm, and the sun is up and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, a perfect day for relaxing.”

“Or slacking off on one’s duties,” Keiji adds.

Oikawa gives him a scrutinizing look. “How are you a still workaholic when you don’t even have work to do?”

“I _have_ work,” Keiji says.

“Not officially.”

“It’s still something.”

For a while, they walk through the garden in silence. Even though Keiji is ahead of them, Keiji doesn’t miss the looks Oikawa and Suga send one another. Whenever they look at him, however, he is careful to appear busy staring off at the sky or observing the flowers.

“How are you feeling?” Suga asks when the stop in front of the doors to Keiji’s Artifact Room.

“I told you,” Keiji says, lifting his hands and letting power buzz across his palms. “I feel fine.”

“Not about that. How are your powers feeling?”

Keiji’s hands stop, inches from the wood, and slowly he brings his hands back to his chest, eyes down. The power buzzes across his palms slowly reverting back into his skin and up his arm to store itself in his chest. There’s a constant buzz now, quiet and sure. It’s a comfort Keiji thought he had long forgotten. But it’s familiar. Too familiar to deny.

“They’re there,” he says carefully as if acknowledging them will wish them away. “They’re not strong, I can’t do much but… they’re there.”

Suga nods, his expression open and inviting. “Have you considered-”

“Are you going to show them the city?” Oikawa cuts in, the words bursting from his lips.

Keiji blinks then frowns at his friend. “What?”

“Well, are you? You’ll keep your powers if you do,” Oikawa insists. “Think about it. Your powers might be as great as before if enough people come they might even be greater.”

Keiji’s heard this rant before, from Oikawa, from Ushijima, from every other god, he’s even heard it from Suga. He’s talked himself through it. But the thought of other mortals walking through the ruins, exploring the city without understanding life there, without knowing the people or their culture, makes him sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t know the people who moved through the village. They would be in his Domain, giving him powers, but they would never be his mortals. They wouldn’t pray to him. They wouldn’t believe in him. They’d only know his name through tablets and stories.

He turns to Oikawa, who watches him with bright eyes and excitement as if this might be the time that his words sink in. “There are things more important than power and there are promises that I have to keep,” Keiji says and watches as Oikawa’s expression fall.

He turns, lifts his hands, and places them against the doors, which open soundlessly. Cool air spills from the Artifact Room. Keiji looks back over the other gods.

“See you at dinner?” Suga asks, almost hopeful.

Right _dinner_. It isn’t like he has much of a choice when it comes to dinner hosted by The Council. Keiji blinks and says “Perhaps,” then steps into the room.

The door closed behind him with a bang that echoes around the space. It’s cold and quiet, and Keiji almost allows himself to drift to one of the couches along the wall and fall into the pillows. Instead, he walks to the pond.

His temple in the Mortal Realm is equally quiet but considerably darker. The sun has yet to rise. Keiji pauses outside of the temple to look over the waking jungle. Golden rays peek out over the distant mountains, and birds call softly to one another. With a sigh, Keiji lets the shadows of the mountain pull him down and towards the jungle.

He arrives at the camp before any of the three travelers wake. They lie, tucked under the nets and inside strange bags, as still as the dead. It’s odd. Mortals look so cold when they’re asleep and so vulnerable. For all the bravado, mortals are quite weak, and it shows when they sleep. Keiji wonders if it’s the same when the Gods sleep.

He hovers at the edge of camp for a few moments, still wrapped in shadows, not wanting to wake them but not wanting to watch them either. Even as a God, it feels wrong to observe someone at their most vulnerable without them knowing. He’s about to turn and slip back into the forest, maybe make his way to the river and think, and Kozume stirs.

Keiji freezes and watches as Kozume sits up slowly, still covered in bug net, and rubs his eyes. He looks around for a moment and then his eyes settle, right on Keiji. Kenma stares in silence, as though pondering, for a few seconds, and then he sinks back into his sleeping bag and rolls over. Keiji is left frozen in place heart pounding because, for a moment, he was sure that Kozume saw him, despite the shadows and the illusion.

Before he can slink back and hide in the woods a sharp buzzing trill pierces the air like no bird Keiji has ever heard. Before he can respond to the strange noise, Kuroo is stirring and sitting up, as is Bokuto, and suddenly the camp springs to life.

While they are stretching and untangling from their bug nets, Keiji allows the shadows to fall off of him and steps into the clearing. Three sets of eyes snap to him, one a little too fast for comfort. It was as if Kozume was expecting him to show up right in that spot.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto says, tripping on his net as he tried to take a step forward. He shakes his foot free, face reddening slightly. “You’re here early.”

“I was taking a walk,” Keiji supplies. He doesn’t miss the glare Kozume sends his way.

“After you left we saw this crazy bird!” Bokuto throws himself into the wild story about this bird and how it was spotted. He describes the experience with such earnest and large hand motions; Keiji doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed at the sudden explosion of noise.

The rest of the morning is a mixture of packing up the camp and eating a makeshift breakfast. Bokuto insists that he should eat something as well, and Keiji talks around the question with long practiced ease. To indulge in mortal food would mean binding himself to the Mortal Realm, which would only mean more trouble should The Council find out.

As the last of the sun’s rays tip over the horizon to warm the air, they are off. They should be heading back towards the north, towards the mortal city, where Keiji can drop them off and pretend this never happened once The Council asks. Instead, they head deeper into the forest towards the foothills of the mountain. If they were to turn east and cross the river, they’d be in Keiji’s ruins no later than midday.

Something ripples through Keiji’s chest. Anxiety? Power? He can’t tell but he clings to it dearly as they walk. It keeps him pushing forward, even if they should really be turning around.

Before he can stop himself or think too much about that, Keiji starts them towards the river. As long as they stay on this bank the ruins will be out of sight. They can walk along the river a bit more than head north, back towards the mortal city, and Keiji will never have to-

“Akaashi?” A voice a bit too loud and a tad too bold cuts through his thoughts.

“Yes, Bokuto?” Keiji answers, turning to look at the man.

“I was wondering…” Bokuto opens his mouth, closes it. He has that look in his eye that means there’s something he needs to say, but when he opens his mouth he just asks, “where are we going?”

“Back to the river,” Keiji replies, watching Bokuto through the corner of his eye.

Bokuto falls silent, but Keiji doesn’t miss the glances he casts back towards Kuroo and Kozume. Keiji doesn’t try to dissect the look. The thing about most humans is that if they are given enough time, they’ll say whatever is on their mind.

When Bokuto doesn’t say anything - though he looks close to combusting - Keiji continues, “I figured that you would want to get a few more pictures.”

“Ah yes, right, pictures,” Bokuto mumbles, “because that is what I do… I take pictures. What do you do, Akaashi? I mean… shit… I know you work _here_ but like… what do you do normally? You said you weren’t a tour guide often…”

Keiji’s test tightens until all the air feels like it’s been pushed out of his lungs. It’s not like he didn’t expect this question. Mortals are naturally curious (even more so than some Gods). They constantly need to _know_. They need to know about their world, about their universe. But, more importantly, they have this need to know about each other. To them, Keiji is just another mortal with another story.

Keeping his face passive, Keiji replies, “no I’m not a tour guide often. Not many people come to the Black Forest.”

“Because it’s cursed?”

Mortals and their assumptions. Keiji holds back a chuckle. “Something like that.”

“So if you aren’t a guide often… do you just live here or staying in the city?”

“I like to stay out here,” Keiji says, indicating to the trees, which are shrinking as they near the river, “I watch and make sure that those who aren’t welcome stay out.”

“Are hunters a problem?”

“Not usually.”

“So what do you need to look out for?”

_People like you_ , is what Keiji doesn’t say. He just turns his attention to the path and continues on.

The trees end abruptly. Here, the ground cuts off abruptly turning the riverbank into something of a short cliff. The water flows faster and cuts away the clay and rock, turning them into jagged lines as opposed to the calm slopes they are farther down the river. Keiji looks across to the other shore, but the trees are tall and the foliage thick. The ruins that can’t be more than a mile away are well hidden.

A few caiman line the banks and Bokuto’s camera is out in a blink and his attention is pulled away from Keiji and their conversation. Keiji entertains himself by watching Bokuto move carefully along the bank. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. As Bokuto crouches low, steadying himself on a tree that is hanging over the bank, Keiji takes note of the muscle of Bokuto’s arms and legs. He’s clearly active. Keiji doesn’t know if that’s common for photographers or just a Bokuto thing. He can never be sure what is usual or unusual for mortals. All he knows is that a fine physique is always appreciated.

Keiji highly inappropriate thoughts are shattered when something sparks in his chest.

Fiery energy weaves its way through his lungs before shooting down his legs and across his arms. His eyes snap to Kuroo and Kozume, both of whom stand farther down the bank. Kuroo pulls himself up from the bank and holds something in his palm. He and Kozume put their heads together as they stare at whatever it is Kuroo is holding.

Forcing himself away from Bokuto, Keiji meanders over to the two of them. Kozume, of course, is the first to notice him and looks up with wide eyes. For a moment, his usual glare is gone and he stares at Keiji as though he’s looking at a ghost.

“What are the two of you looking at?” Keiji asks.

Kuroo looks up, eyes bright with hope and something else that sends a shiver down Keiji’s spine. “You mentioned before that the civilization of the Black Jungle was only a rumor.”

“I did,” Keiji admits. “That is all the proof we have.”

“Well, I just found you more proof,” Kuroo holds up a woven doll that is so small it can’t be much longer than Keiji’s pointer finger. Keiji doesn’t need to look at it long to know what it is. “I thought I saw something on the bank and found this half buried in the clay. It’s a toy of some kind. Pretty, cool right? You see, there had to have been something here!”

Kuroo is watching him with so much hope, but it’s Kozume’s calculating stare that makes Keiji pick his words carefully. “It appears you have found something,” Keiji says and prays to Oikawa and Suga and the other gods that he sounds earnest. “I only wish I could tell you want it is.”

“So, it is something?”

“Well, its must be,” Keiji says and takes a step back. For a moment that’s all Keiji says, but Oikawa’s words echo in his ears. Mortals will believe anything… it’s true. Keiji hates it, but it’s true. So he takes a breath, elevates his chin slightly and says, with what he hopes is confidence, “However, I doubt that it is from any ancient civilization from around here. It is old, yes, but it cannot possibly be that old. It could easily have come from somewhere… upstream.”

Kuroo’s expression falls and he looks back to the doll. Keiji’s chest aches at the disappointment that seeps from the mortal, but there’s nothing he can do. It isn’t as if he could tell the truth. He barely has time to register Kozume’s look of suspicion when Bokuto appears. His overwhelming presence unsettles the delicate balance the three of them had. Kozume no longer glares at Keiji but shifts an annoyed look to Bokuto

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on?” Bokuto asks, planting himself between Keiji and Kuroo. Keiji steps back, allowing Bokuto to occupy the space he once had, granting himself a moment to slip out of the limelight.

“Dunno,” Kuroo says holding it up for his friend to see. “It’s some little figure I found in the clay. Akaashi doesn’t recognize it either I think I might be…” He stops himself, eyes shifting between Kozume and Bokuto for a second. When he speaks again, he’s visibly less excited, “Something. I think it’s something. The dress and the style are like nothing I’ve seen before. But Akaashi’s right, it’s more than likely that it came from somewhere else.”

He holds the toy in his open palm and another warm flash of power zips through Keiji’s gut. It makes it hard to keep still. Keiji can’t remember the last time he had this much energy. It is by no means a lot, he could probably rejuvenate a handful of flowers or influence a single animal (without totally draining himself), but it’s more than he can remember.

His gaze drifts across the river and there is a moment when he wonders what it would feel like to bring the three of the ruins. His head spins with the feeling of imaginary power. The idea of returning to even half of what he once had is strange because he can barely remember what it felt like. It’s like a foggy dream; the longer he stays up the less and less he can remember of it.

Keiji drifts away from the group, slowly, before he can even think about it. He slips down the steep slope, a decision he’ll regret later, but can’t seem to care about now, and stands by the river. The water laps at his feet in greeting. Keiji inhales, gathering the power in his chest just to feel it, and the water reaches forward farther as if trying to feel the power as well. His fingers come to rest on a fern, and he lets a little of the energy trickle from his fingers. The fern stretches up, wrapping around his fingers. Its leaves expand and any discoloration melts away, leaving a vibrant green plant on the shore of a muddy river.

“Akaashi!”

Bokuto’s voice breaks through the spell and Keiji yanks his hand away. The plant follows for a second then folds under its own weight, returning back to an inanimate organism.

Bokuto settles beside him, and Keiji rings his hands together, hoping to shed any of the leftover power. “We were wondering where you went,” Bokuto continues, but the way he says _we_ sounds more like _I_ and it sets off an odd sort of fluttering in Keiji’s chest that is certainly no power he’s ever had experience with.

“I apologize for wandering off,” Keiji says and he does his best to look at the river and not Bokuto. “This section of the river has always been my favorite and I needed to see it.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I think Tetsu and Kenma were getting ready to go soon,” Bokuto says, setting beside Keiji. “Why is this part of the river your favorite?”

Keiji doesn’t let himself close his eyes and see the children playing on the far bank. He doesn’t allow himself to imagine the women, sitting together trying to teach him, a God, how to weave a basket. He doesn’t think of the fishing, or the canoeing, or the damp mornings when he would sit on an overhanging branch and watch the wildlife.

Holding a hand to his chest, Keiji lets out a long and quiet breath. “It’s beautiful here,” he says and hopes that Bokuto will accept that as an answer.

The mortal says nothing but fixes him with a heavy and open look, the kind that digs deep into your chest and tries to pry you open. Keiji is quick to turn away and break the eye contact they established because his heart is pounding against his ribs and his head is fuzzy with something that isn’t power. Something Keiji doesn’t have a name for or control over.

“If they want to head out, we should get back to them,” Keiji says.

Bokuto doesn’t reply, just hums in agreement, and together they climb back up the steep bank. Kozume and Kuroo already have their backpacks on and are whispering together when Bokuto and Keiji arrive. With one last shared look, Kuroo walks forward, eyes bright. “We were wondering if we could continue along the river,” Kuroo asks.

“I don’t see why not,” Keiji replies, but before he can march forward the glass bead around his neck warms and vibrates. His hand comes to his chest to cover the necklace. “You three go on ahead. I will catch up with you.”

Kuroo shrugs and Bokuto gives him a questioning look but turns and follows his friend without question. Kozume is the only one to hesitate. For a second, Keiji swears that his eyes dart to the bead hidden under Keiji’s palm, which is ridiculous because it’s not as if mortals can _see_ anything, but eventually he turns as well and trails Kuroo and Bokuto.

Keiji is left alone at the edge of the bank and when they are far enough ahead he pulls the glass bead forward. It slips off of the chain and hovers in the air before him. After a second, Suga’s face appears in the glass, slightly muted as if the image in coated in fog.

“Sorry to bother you,” Suga says, his voice muffled. “I figured I should call…” Suga’s voice drifts away and he looks past the orb as if watching someone walk by. It’s then that Keiji notices that Suga is not outside or in his own Wing, but tucked away in some corner that he can’t quite make out.

“Dinner is going to start soon,” Suga continues, “and The Council… they’re asking about you. I don’t know what for, and it doesn’t sound like anything bad, but you should really consider coming.”

Keiji’s eyes dart up ahead where the three mortals walk. They’re laughing about something, but they’re far enough away that Keiji can’t hear them. Slowly be begins walking and the orb moves alongside him.

“I’ll try to make it,” he says, keeping his voice down as to not attract their attention. The only one he’s worried about it Bokuto. How could he explain a floating glass sphere and talking to himself?

“How are things in The Mortal Realm?” Suga asks with a light laugh. There must be something in Keiji’s expression that gives him away. “The mortals… are they-?”

“Up ahead,” Keiji clarifies. “Now what exactly has The Council been saying?”

“It’s Lord Ushijima, mostly,” Suga says, peaking out around the corner of his crevice, then leaning back into it. “He just wants to make sure that you’re okay. He claims that you’ve ‘appeared to be preoccupied with some other task’ in his words. The rest of The Council just wants to thank you for some of the work you did.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know Keiji, it’s impossible to tell if they’re being genuine or if they are growing more suspicious. You know how they are.”

Suga continues to speak, but Keiji’s attention lies elsewhere. Up ahead, the path is clear as if nothing had been there to be with. Keiji sighs and wants nothing more than to bang his head against a tree. Or maybe a rock, the rock would complain less.

“Is everything alright?” Suga asks.

“Hopefully,” Keiji answers and begins to jog.

As he nears where he last saw them, he sees nothing. It isn’t until he looks towards the trees that he sees a path forcibly carved through the underbrush. The surrounding plants speak to him in urgant whispers, telling him to follow the path.

“Keiji?” The voice is broken and cracked, like a sound coming from a scratched record player.

“I’m going to be late for dinner,” Keiji mumbles and starts marching through the trees. “Is it just me or do mortals today get into more trouble than mortals in the past?”

Suga laughs, and in the corner of his eyes Keiji can see him shaking his head. “I think they get into the same amount of trouble,” Suga says. Keiji can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s just that we’ve lost the patience to deal with it.”

Keiji snorts and peers through the trees. He can make out a shape moving, it’s Kozume, pacing back and forth besides their backpacks. He’s looking… down? Keiji’s stomach drops. Some feet ahead of Kozume, the ground gives out.

He must be making some face or perhaps he actually swore allowed instead of in his head, because Suga breaks into loud laughter. Keiji isn’t even in the same realm as him but he can hear it echoing.

“Go, go,” Suga says between huffs, “I’ll save you a seat?”

Keiji tries and fails to suppress a groan. “Please.”

With one last wave the orb blinks then falls still, Keiji plucks it out of the air and slides it back onto the chain around his neck. Without another moment to think, Keiji rushes forward. He tosses his pack with the others as he approaches Kozume. Kozume stands a few feet back from the edge of the sinkhole, shifting his weight from one foot to another. With his eyes wide and his attention fixated on the hole in front of him, he’s looks almost feline-like. There’s something clutched in his arms, and when he turns Keiji realizes it’s Bokuto’s camera.

Keiji approaches Kozume after a moment and the mortal’s eyes snap to him, blinking rapidly as if having just noticed Keiji for the first time.

“What is happening?” Keiji asks, embarrassingly out of breath despite having not run that far. It’s a good think Oikawa isn’t here or He’d never heard the end of it. “Where are Bokuto and Kuroo?”

“Koutarou spotted something in the trees and wanted to get a picture. Kuro and I didn’t want him to go alone so we followed him. Then they thought they heard something,” Kozume explains, “They just dropped their stuff and ran. We came here and… well, something fell down in there and they’re trying to get it out.”

_The mortals help…_

_… try to…_

_...stuck…_

_...caved in..._

_...because of the rain._

_They went down…_

_...won’t get back up._

_Not with…_

The whispers of the trees assault Keiji’s ears, but he’s able to sort through them and form a picture of what happened in his mind. His eyes take in the surrounding area. Tied to one of the trees is a thick rope that vanishes into the ground. He walks to the edge of the sinkhole and peers over the edge. It’s not a very deep sinkhole, Keiji can actually see the bottom.

Sure enough, Kuroo and Bokuto are both there, clinging to the edge. Across from them is a brown lump, standing on a small ledge, watching the two. A capybara by the looks of it? It takes Keiji a moment to realize that while the capybara is standing there, looking terrified, Kuroo and Bokuto are half holding themselves up on the ledge half treading water. The sinkhole is filled with water, probably overflow from the river and the storm that blew in a few weeks ago.

“Please tell me that they can at least swim,” Keiji says.

Kozume huffs. “Mostly.”

Keiji is torn between climbing down there himself and sitting back and waiting. Neither in an option. There’s no way three people down there would only stress the animal out more, and sitting back wouldn’t be good either. He’s a God! He has to do something. But what?

His powers bubble in his chest, and he goes to reach for them but stops. Kozume’s eyes are heavy on his back. He can’t do this, not in front of a mortal who is too observant for his own good. But moreover, he just _can’t_. He doesn't have the power. A few millennia ago, he would have been able to manipulate the vines and the trees themselves, creating a ladder or a pulley of sorts. Now he can barely make a flower grow or manipulate a snake. There’s no way he can pull two mortals and a capybara up from a sinkhole.

“Kenma!” Kuroo calls, looking up. He appears confused for a second, then laughs. “Oh, hey Akaashi.”

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s head snaps up. “Akaashi, you shouldn’t stand that close to the edge!”

Akaashi fixes both of them with a glare. “You shouldn't be down there!” He snaps back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We heard the capybara. It sounded like it was in destress and we found it here. We _had_ to help it.”

No. No they did not. Keiji is about to remind them of that fact when he stops. Far below, Bokuto watches him with a pleading expression. Of course they had to help, because that’s who Bokuto is. Keiji feels as if this should be a surprise, but it’s not.

Letting out a long breath, Keiji asks, “what do you need?”

Even from way up above, Keiji can see Bokuto’s eyes light up. “We need a harness. Can you toss us down some more rope? I should be in my pack.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Keiji cals back and stands.

He turns around and walks to the pack. Kozume is already there, rope in hand. Keiji holds out his own hand, and after a look over and a glare, Kozume passes it to him. “Can you watch the rope by the tree and make sure it doesn’t break or come untied.”

Kozume doesn’t say anything, and he’s still glaring, but he turns and marches to the tree where the rope is tied. When he’s in place, Keiji returns to the edge of the sinkhole and tosses down the rope.

“Please be careful, Akaashi!” Bokuto calls as Tetsurou mumbles a thank you and gets to tying.  

Keiji tries his best not to roll his eyes. The drop, which is probably like fouty feet or so, would hurt, yes, but it wouldn’t kill him. Anything that could kill a mortal is just a minor inconvenience to a God.

Keiji contemplates climbing down the rope to help them try and pacify the capybara, he has enough power to do that at least, but then who would be up here to pull them up? Keiji looks to Kozume and sighs. He presses his palms to the earth, trying to send his power to the capybara but the earth eats what energy he gives it as quickly as a dead flower sucks up water.

He doesn’t have enough of it. He’s powerless. Hell, the mortals can do more than he can. The realization is like a shot through the heart. Bokuto and Kuroo are doing a job that he should be doing, that he should do in a matter of minutes. Instead, this task take them at least an hour and has the distinct possibility of injuring or killing both of them.

If they had gone to the city this wouldn’t be a problem. Yes, it wouldn’t be a lot more power, but it would be enough. Without that power he’s forced to sit back and watch mortals do his job. Now he’s very thankful that Oikawa and Suga aren’t here because they wouldn’t let him see the end of it.

_Bokuto can handle himself,_ Keiji repeats to himself as he watches them tighten the harness and start towards the capybara on the other side of the sinkhole. _So can Kuroo. They will be okay._

He should have at least enchanted the rope to calm the capybara once they were connected. Maybe he should have strengthened it. Perhaps it would have been better if had just gone down altogether. He would probably have drained himself if he did, but at least he would have been doing something instead of watching.

Keiji doesn't know how they do it but the two of them catch the creature, the capybara is probably too weak to try and flee anyway, and stuff it into a harness. It kicks and belts and barks, but it’s flailing is weak. It’s kick would hurt, but it wouldn’t do too much damage… most likely.

As Bokuto and Kuroo approach the rope, carrying a capybara with them, Keiji touches the rope and puts in some energy to strengthen it. Keiji can feel Kozume’s eyes on his back, but he doesn't allow himself to think about it too much. He had to do something, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn’t.

The strengthening pays off. After an exhausting ten minutes, Keiji pulls Tetsurou and Bokuto out of the hole, Kozume watching closely the whole time. With a final pull, they bring the capybara back up the surface. The creature is too tired to kick and thrash, but Keiji can see the panic in its eyes. The moment it’s over the lip of the sinkhole he runs a hand over his head and down its back. The capybara’s breathing slows and it lies perfectly still as Bokuto works the harness off of it. Once it is free to leave, Keiji lends it the rest of the power that he can dare to give up, and the creature scuttles away with new found energy.

They help Kuroo back out of the sinkhole then he and Bokuto collapse in a fit of giggles. Even Kozume is smiling slightly. Even the trees seem to laugh along with them. Or maybe they can feel the way Keiji’s heard pounds and are laughing at him, a powerless God enamored and beat by two mortals. He would laugh at himself too, if he weren’t so tired and disappointed in himself. Before his eyes can find Bokuto again, he turns and walks back to where their packs are laid out..

Kuroo and Bokuto follow a few moments later, clapping each other on the back and recounting their fondest moments of the incident, as if it hadn’t happened just moments ago.

“I really thought that thing was gonna kick you in the face, bro,” Kuroo says.

Bokuto laughs, “well I thought it was gonna bite you!”

They boy crack at that, sputtering and laughing.

Bokuto looks up and his eyes lock onto Keiji’s with a sudden intensity the god had not been expecting. “Akaashi, you’re okay, right?” He takes a step forward, giving Keiji a careful look over.

Heat floods through Keiji’s cheeks and he steps back trying to maintain adequate space between them. He pulls his eyes away from the water dripping down Bokuto’s neck, and struggles to ignore the way his shirt hugs the muscles of his chest and arms. “Why, yes. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You did a lot of pulling and heaving by yourself it couldn't have been easy.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Keiji insists, “I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

Kuroo laughs and slaps him on the back as he walks by. “No kidding! Never would have pegged you as the type to be able to lift a grown man and a grown capybara.”

“It was a young capybara,” Keiji corects.

“Still couldn't have been easy!” Kuroo says

“Would you like some water, Akaashi” Bokuto asks, holding up his water bottle.

Keiji shakes his head and holds up his hands. “No thank you, I already had some.”

Bokuto frowns but nods anyway, and Kuroo seems to preoccupied to really think about that. Kozume is the only one who tilts his head. He hasn’t stopped watching Keiji, not since Keiji used his powers to strengthen the rope.  

“Hey, Kenma, did you get any pictures of Bo and I?” Kuroo asks.

“No,” Kozume’s eyes never leave Keiji. He drops the camera in Bokuto’s lap, who is still dripping wet and covered in dirt mud and capybara fur, before walking off to his own pack.

Bokuto holds the camera out awkwardly. “Uhhh, Akaashi, could you-?”

Keiji plucks the camera from Bokuto’s hands. His own are covered in dirt and bright red from handling the rope, but are dry nonetheless.

“Akaashi!” Keiji turns around to face Bokuto. “Could you take a picture of me and Tetsu?”

“Okay.”

Bokuto cheers and rushes forward. He doesn’t give Keiji the chance to remove the camera from his neck, simply picks it off of his chest and holds it out in front of Keiji. He turns it on with the flip of some button and takes off the cap, which Keiji takes and slips into a pocket.

“So this is the viewfinder,” Bokuto says, pointing to the small cube at the top of the camera, “you can look through there, but you don’t have to, the image will appear on the screen. The shutter button is here, and to focus the image just twist the lens back and forth until we’re not blurry. Got it?”

Keiji looks over the buttons again. They all look the same, minus the silver one, which he thinks was what Bokuto was pointing at earlier. He isn’t sure. He was too aware of the Bokuto’s warmth pressed against his side and the breath he could feel on the side of his face.

“Just don’t cut off our feet or the top of our heads and the image should look fine!” Bokuto yells as he places himself at Kuroo’s side. They each throw and arm around the other and send blazing smiles towards Keiji.

Keiji blinks for a moment, lost in the brightness, then turns his attention to the screen. Heads and feet are both visible and in focus, he thinks, so he presses down on the silver button. The shutter goes off with a quiet snap and once it does, Bokuto comes rushing over, Kuroo note far behind.

Leaning over Keiji’s shoulder, Bokuto takes the camera from Keiji’s hand and presses another few buttons. The picture that was just taken pops up onto the screen. “Hey, hey, hey! It looks great Akaashi!” He says, knocking his shoulder against Keiji who just stands and nods a bit too overwhelmed to do anything but let Bokuto invade his space. “You could be a photographer.”

“Thank you, Bokuto, but I am certainly not as good a you.”

That has Bokuto beaming. He turns off the camera and presses it back into Keiji’s hands. When he steps back, he’s still smiling. “Thanks Akaashi, I’m glad you think so.”

He and Kuroo plopp themselves among the bags again, laughing and chatting all the way up. Keiji hovers at the edge of it all, his eyes never leaving Bokuto. His smile is too bright, and he has too much energy for everything that had happened.

Shifting the camera in his hands Keiji thinks back to that smile and the way Bokuto acted without a thought, Kuroo too. He lifts his gaze and turns back around, looking through the tees. Past them is the river, just past that are ruins lost to time. Keiji can not longer ignore the longing in his chest. The longing for power, the longing to be able to do something, the longing to see Bokuto smile, just one last time.

He made a promise to keep their legacy alive, there was nothing in it specifically about hiding the village, only to protect it. He preserved as much as he could by his own, maybe it’s time… Keiji lets out a breath of air and chews at his bottom lip. If he could show the ruins to Bokuto and the others, if they could uncover some facts for themselves and spread the word, that’s maintaining the legacy too, is it not? Besides, it isn’t as though he’s marching all three of them right up to temple. He’d still be keeping his promise, wouldn’t he?

While the others celebrate their victory, he slips away through the trees. When he is out of view and out of hearing rang, he grips the glass bead that hangs from the necklace and slips it off the chain. It lights after he whispers a name into it and then floats in front of him. The bead lights up and Keiji casts a quick glance over his shoulder.

A face crackles and appears in the bead, slightly out of focus. Suga is shuffling out of a huge door and darts around a corner, pressing himself against the wall.

“Did you have to call me in the middle of dinner?” Suga asks, his voice a whisper. He peers over the orb then waves to someone. A second later, Oikawa is pressed into the frame besides Suga.

“Well, Keiji. I didn’t think you were the type to be fashionably late, but you’re still… where are you?”

“Mortal Realm,” Keiji says quickly, “but I was wondering-”

“You’re still in the Mortal Realm?” Oikawa says, but before he can say any more, Suga throws a hand over his mouth.

“Keiji, what’s going on?” He says warmly as Oikawa grumbles into his hand

“I’m not going to dinner,” Keiji says, after a quick breath.

“Wait, what?” Suga’s hand falls from Oikawa’s mouth. “Keiji, The Council is looking for you!”

“Then tell them I still have garden work or I’m not feeling well, or _something_. I have one more stop to make today.”

Suga frowns. “Keiji, I don’t know what this is about but surely it can wait until-”

Keiji takes in a big breath, eyes darting up to look across the river. “It can’t. I’m sorry. Give my regards to everyone.”

Before Suga and Oikawa can say anything back he taps the glass bead, plucks it out of the air, and snaps it back onto his necklace. He’s through the trees a second later.

When he reaches the backpacks, he finds all three of the mortals sprawled across the ground. Bokuto and Kuroo are sunbathing like lizards on a rock, and Kozume is sitting besides them. Both Kuroo and Bokuto are shirtless. Keiji doesn’t allow himself to look in Bokuto’s direction. Instead, he keeps his eyes hovering slightly over their heads.

It’s hard not to look at Bokuto, however, because he sits up the moment he notices Keiji. “Akaashi! We were starting to wonder where you went.”

“I was… thinking,” he says, focusing hard on Bokuto’s face and not the rest of him.

“About what?” Bokuto asks.

Kuroo sits up as well, watching Keiji was an expression that’s an odd mixture of amusement and curiosity. Kozume doesn’t so much as look at him, which is better than a glare, or so Keiji thinks.

“How would you feel about a detour across the river?” Keiji asks carefully, searching their faces for any hints of understanding.

Bokuto watches him in awe, and Kuroo smiles. Kozume actually looks up and there’s something soft in his expression, but the glare isn’t totally gone.

“There’s…” Keiji stops himself and casts a glance over his shoulder and towards the trees. This is okay, he tells himself, no one is breaking any promises “I think you’d find more things to photograph on the other side.”

“Great!” Bokuto says a bit too loudly, looking between his friends.

“How are we getting across?” Kuroo asks. “I hope we don’t have to swim, I’m way too tired.”

“No,” Keiji shakes his head and squeezes his hand into a fist. There’s no backing out now. “You just have to follow me.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this so late, work is kicking my ass. Hope y'all are doing well and enjoy this chapter!
> 
> CW: brief mentions of violence and death

Akaashi leads them along the river in silence. Despite the quiet, there’s a buzz in the air that almost has Koutarou skipping. Even Kenma’s feeling it. He no longer glares at Akaashi, but watches their guide with a heavily guarded expression that Koutarou can’t name. Beside him, Tetsurou practically vibrates with excitement. He doesn’t say anything, but Koutarou knows what question is floating around his head. Kenma does too, because his gaze flutters between Tetsu and Akaashi regularly.

“Don’t get too excited,” Kenma says when they hang back two or three steps. “It’s likely just more forest.”

Tetsurou huffs and shoots Kenma a frown, but aside from there, the air remains light. Even after the whole capybara incident. After a few more minutes of walking, the conversation starts up again, most between Koutarou and Tetsurou, but Kenma adds a few words here and there.

Akaashi is the only one who remains completely silent. Koutarou tries to get his attention and bring him into the conversation, but Akaashi’s mind is elsewhere. His eyes have a fog over them, and he fiddles with his woven necklace regularly. He has that thinking aura that anyone, even Koutarou can notice, so despite how wonderful it would be to talk with him, Koutarou leaves him alone.

When it comes time to cross the river, it’s not what Koutarou expected, though he isn’t sure what he expected in the first place. The river upstream is considerably calmer, and bubbles along the surface. It’s also narrower. Koutarou can see the other side clearly.

The bridge they use is an old log, half rotted out, that has fallen across the river. It’s top branches just miss the bank on the far side by a few feet, but Akaashi doesn’t express concern. He climbs onto the trunk – it’s wide enough that Koutarou and Tetsu probably wouldn’t be able to wrap their arms around it completely – and starts across it without looking back. He pads across carefully but as easily as a trapeze artist walks across a tightrope.

The rest stay on the far side staring at the long.

“I’m not crossing that.” Kenma is the first to speak between the three of them. Koutarou frowns, and Tetsu gives him a look before Kenma speaks again, “It looks two seconds from caving in. It… it can’t be sound.”

“But Akaashi crossed it,” Koutarou says.

“Yeah, well, he does a lot of questionable things. And even if this log was rotted out, it isn’t like he’d fall.”

“Kenma,” Tetsurou says after a beat of silence. “That makes no sense.”

“You must have noticed how the forest interacts with him. It’s like the trees themselves go out of their way to keep him safe.”

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow and sends a questionable look to Koutarou. Koutarou shrugs in response. Akaashi cares about the forest. Koutarou has seen that in the way he takes in every detail as if he’s unsure he’ll get to see it again. He sees it in Akaashi’s knowledge about the plants and animals he lives around, and in the way Akaashi moves. But he’s never seen the jungle act back.

Kenma huffs, red dusting his cheeks, “Forget I said anything,” he mumbles and turns, walking along the bank.

“Kenma, wait!” Tetsurou mumbles, walking after him, leaving Koutarou alone beside the tree trunk.

Eyes drifting back to Akaashi, who stands expectantly on the other bank. Koutarou pulls himself onto the log and rises slowly. The backpack makes balancing slightly awkward, but Koutarou holds his arms out, and the action helps him remain on the log. He takes a step forward, expecting the trunk to bend even slightly, but the wood holds fast. He takes another step and tree doesn’t so much as creak. Walking over the water is harder, but if he doesn’t think about it, it’s fine.

Koutarou is on the other side, hoping off the log into shallow water and wading the rest of the way to the bank before he knows it. A few minutes later Tetsu and Kenma join them. Kenma appears to be a little pacified, but he still looks put-off.

“Where to next?” Koutarou asks, to shift his attention from Kenma.

Akaashi looks between them then rubs his necklace. “Which would you prefer? To keep walking along the river or head into the jungle?”

Koutarou exchanges a look with Tetsurou, but neither of them gets a chance to answer. It’s Kenma who says, “into the jungle.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen slightly and even Kuroo looks stunned for a moment. Kenma’s hard look never leaves Akaashi though. After a beat Akaashi smiles. “Very well, let us go then.”

Akaashi starts up the bank and Koutarou falls in line behind him. At the edge of the trees, Akaashi stops. Koutarou almost swears he sees a tremor run through Akaashi’s hand, but it’s gone in a second and they’re moving before Koutarou can make sense of it.

As they move through the jungle on this side of the river, Akaashi is less attentive. Koutarou almost doesn’t notice the difference, Akaashi is usually quiet after all, but when they pass a pair of toucans hopping from branch to branch, Koutarou knows something is wrong. He has a second sense when it comes to wildlife. He’s usually the first to spot them and always announces when he does. He moves through the trees less like a guide and more like a spirit returning to the place of their death for the first time in centuries.

Only when they stop for water and rest does Akaashi speak. “I-There is something I wish you show you. I apologize that I kept it a secret but, well… I hope you will understand when you see it.”

Akaashi didn’t say anything else as they finish their break, pack their bags, and head off back into the trees.

The farther they hike into the jungle the taller the trees become. The air around them grows dark and the ground is soft underfoot. The jungle is oddly quiet as well. For about half a mile or so, it’s like they are walking towards nothing, just traveling deeper and deeper into the trees. With anyone else as their guide, Koutarou might have begun to wonder at this point if they were going to make it out alive. But Akaashi could lead him to the edge of the world and Koutarou would most likely follow.  

The sudden streams of sunlight that pour in from open patches of the canopy catch Koutarou off guard. He was just getting used to the darkness when suddenly there is light. The trees are just as tall but are not as densely packed. It takes him a second to notice why. Between the trees are mounds and stones and- are those walls? The stones appear to be thrown around haphazardly, and Koutarou scans the landscape trying to understand what he is looking at.

Beside him, Tetsurou gapes. “Is this…?”

Koutarou looks from Tetsurou to Akaashi. Whereas Tetsu looks like a small child at Christmas, Akaashi looks cold and stoic in much the same way he had when they had first met.

“You seem to know more about this and I,” Akaashi replies. “You tell me.”

Koutarou looks back at the jungle and blinks. What lays out in front of them are not mere mounds or stones, but buildings. Pieces of buildings really. Some are more distinguishable than others, their ceilings are still intact or at least there are clear distinctions of where walls are or were. Other structures are simply piles of rocks with trees going on or around them. There are so many of them, Koutarou doesn’t know where to look.

Koutarou’s eyes snap to Tetsurou, who looks close to crying. “This is… this is it,” he breathes. “How did you find this? When?”

“I-” Akaashi swallows and turns his gaze from them to the ruins. It is then that Koutarou notices the flush across his cheeks. It’s not light enough to be a blush or a sunburn. It looks to be from heat, but they’d been walking in the shade the last mile or so. “I stumbled upon it a while back. I didn’t think much of it but recently… well, there’s been a lot of talk.”

“Why did you come forward? You… you could be rich!”

“They’re only ruins,” Akaashi says. It sounds like he’s trying to convince someone, but Koutarou can’t say who. “Just... take a look around, tell me what you think.”

That’s all Tetsurou needs to hear. He’s off in a second, scampering down the path, weaving between trees, his laughter coming in breathless huffs. Neither Koutarou nor Kenma follow. Koutarou is too busy trying to take it all in, the houses, the open spaces which must once have been streets. Upon second glance none of it is placed randomly, without the trees everything would be neat and orderly. What must have once been careful city planning has been left up to nature. There are birds flying overhead, more macaws. There’s so much to photograph he doesn’t know where to start. Through all this Kenma continues to scowl.

Koutarou is tempted to say something, he wants to understand why Kenma hates Akaashi so much. Kenma’s ability to read people and judge someone’s character is usually spot on, but it’s wrong now. It has to be.  Akaashi is kind and compassionate and intelligent and perfect in every way. But maybe it isn’t Akaashi this time, because Kenma isn’t scowling at him but at the ruins laid out before them. Before Koutarou can ask, Kenma drops his pack and marches off before he can ask.

Koutarou looks back to where Akaashi had been standing, but the guide is gone like he hadn’t been there to begin with. Koutarou almost thinks that he’s left for the day, but something moves in the corner in his eye he. Slipping off his pack, he holds his camera against his chest and follows.

He finds Akaashi standing alone in one of the jungle’s rare clearings. It isn’t a large open space. It’s small, caused by one tree falling and taking two or three others down with it. The grass here is tall, the shrubbery think. Small saplings are just begging to sprout.

Akaashi stands amongst the grasses looking like some creature from a fairy tale, maybe a nymph. With the sun setting there is a golden halo around Akaashi, brightening his dark hair and kissing his brown skin. The shrubbery around him rustles in a gentle wind. The way the grass moves makes it look like it’s reaching for him. Koutarou picks up his camera and takes a picture before he can think.

The click of the lens must alert Akaashi because he turns around, and for a second his stoic expression is broken. His mouth is slightly parted and his cheeks are flushed red. His eyes are wide and as green as the leaves around him, bright against his colored cheeks. There’s something in them, something sad and almost pained. As if he is about to cry.

Another click and the camera goes off.

Koutarou can’t help himself.

When he looks up from his camera, Akaashi’s expression is stony as ever. Koutarou wonders if what he had seen earlier was even real, or if it had just been a trick of evening light.

“Bokuto.” Even with his cold expression, Akaashi still sounds surprised to see him. “I thought you’d be exploring.”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Akaashi says, turning around quickly. There’s tension lingering in his shoulders.

Koutarou takes a few slow steps forward in the same manner as one might approach a wild animal. When Akaashi doesn’t flee or turn to bite, he pushes forward and stands beside the other man.

“It’s beautiful here,” he says after a few moments of thick silence, the kind he can’t stand.

Akaashi hums softly in agreement.

There are a few more beats of silence and they bury themselves under Koutarou’s skin. “How long have you known about the ruins?” Koutarou asks silently.

Releasing a breath, Akaashi says, “for some time.”

“Do other people know?”

“People like to ignore the things they cannot understand,” is his reply. There’s something in the tension of his jaw and the shine of his eyes that causes Koutarou’s chest to tighten.

Koutarou frowns. “Akaashi are you sure you don’t want to talk-”

“Would you like to hear a story, Bokuto?” Akaashi’s voice is quiet and distant. When he looks to Koutarou it’s almost like he’s looking through him.

“I… ugh… yes sure!”

Akaashi begins walking through the grass. After a second, Koutarou stumbles after him.

“A long time ago, there lived a Boy. Like the other boys, he loved to run and roll in the mud. Like the other boys, he loved to swim in the river and try to catch fish with his bare hands. But unlike the other boys, he loved the jungle. Despite the reminders of the jungle’s constant dangers, he felt more at home there than in his own village.

“He knew every plant by name and could recognize any bird by its call. He could climb a tree faster than a monkey and could swim better than an otter. It was said that he could speak to the animals and understand the plants. He always knew where the freshest fruit grew, and the snakes he encountered wouldn’t dare to bite him. It was not uncommon for him to return to the village with fruit in his hands and an owl perched atop his head.”

“An owl!” Koutarou gasps. “They live in the jungle? That’s so cool I didn’t know-”

Akaashi sends him a sharp glare.

“S-sorry.”

Clearing his throat, Akaashi continues. “As time continued, his mother grew worried. She could see the wonder in his eyes when he looked across the river and could feel his longing when he watched the hunters of the village leave every morning. Every day she would remind him not to cross the river, and every day when he left she prayed to the Gods that he would listen.

“The Boy understood his mother’s worries, he felt they were unfounded. For how different could the far side of the river be? He did not dare to cross it, however, for he knew that only those blessed as adults could. Still, whenever a hunt was called, he would follow them silently to the river, only to watch them cross and vanish into the trees.

“One day, the hunters came back with a body of their Lead Hunter. Though the Boy never got to see the body, word spread through the village quickly: the death was caused by none other than the Jaguar Queen. The Jaguar was the one creature of the jungle the Boy had never encountered. Even with his skills, the Jaguar was sure to kill him, for the Jaguar was the most fearsome of beasts. Even the crocodiles feared her. She was the queen of the jungle. Neither man nor fire could stand in her path.

“When the body was burned for the Gods, the Boy asked his mother what they were going to do to the Jaguar. The mother assured the Boy that nothing was to happen. The Jaguar was still Queen, and the villagers would still respect her.

“The days bled together, and a new Lead Hunter was named and blessed. Just as the whispers of the Jaguar Queen’s attack died, another corpse was brought back to the village, body bloody and neck severed.

“The Boy didn’t need to hear the words to know the cause. The entire village was enraged, and one Man insisted that he should lead a party out into the jungle’s depth to find the Jaguar Queen and steal her hide once and for all. The village fell silent, for all knew that to steal the Jaguar Queen’s pelt was to steal her power. The Village Head was quick to dismiss the Man’s idea and calmed with villagers with wise words and a grand feast.  

“The Boy was there when the third body washed up onto the shore. The villagers took it away quickly, shielding his eyes, but he did not miss the broken neck or the long scars down the hunter’s back. The villagers insisted it was the work of the Jaguar Queen, but the boy was unconvinced. A Jaguar’s kill was said to be quick and painless, not bloody and messy.

“The villagers were up in arms, grabbing their spears and arrows, the Man at their head. But before they could run off to hunt down the Jaguar Queen, the Village Head called for a full council. She demanded to hear from the Gods first before any action was taken. The Man agreed, though reluctantly, for the word of the Village Head was not to be taken lightly.

“After a half day of prayer, they threw the body on the pyre. The smoke came out black and think. This was a sign from the Gods that death was among them. The Man insisted it was the Jaguar Queen, that she was the one bringing death, but the Boy could feel that she was not the cause.

“He tried to speak but was hushed by his mother. He was a child, what did he know about killing or death? While the villagers turned to one another to plan their attack on the Jaguar Queen, the Boy grabbed a stick and slipped away into the jungle.

“Night was beginning to fall, but he could navigate this side of the river with his eyes closed, so it was not long before he came to the riverbank. He crossed the river with ease, the tide gently guiding him to the far side. He climbed up the far bank and looked at the forest before him, thick and unknown. Without looking back he slipped into the trees.

“It was not hard to find the Jaguar Queen’s tree. It was the largest tree on the far side of the jungle, but when the Boy arrived she was not there. He was about to turn around and march home when he felt the weight of heavy eyes. He tried to look but couldn’t see anything.

“Then, as if emerging from the shadows themselves, she appeared, fur shining like soft gold, eyes dark as the jungle’s shadows. She gave the Boy a look over and licked her bloody maw. ‘The trees have told me that the village plans to send a hunter with a spear to gather my pelt. But you are not a hunter and that is not a spear. Who are you, Little Cub and what have you come for?’

“The Boy rolled back his shoulders, stuck out his chin, and met the Jaguar Queen’s fearsome gaze. ‘I have come for an answer.’

“The Jaguar Queen smiled. ‘Since you have come all this way, I shall give it to you. What is your question?’

“ ‘Why are you killing my people?’

“The Jaguar Queen’s laugh was a deep rumble. ‘I do not believe that is the question you are looking to answer, Little Cub. I shall give you one last chance to ask what you truly wish to know.’

“The Boy stopped, thought carefully, then asked, ‘Are you the one killing my people?’

“‘A good question, Little Cub,’ the Jaguar Queen replied, ‘But no, I am not the one spilling that blood.’

“ ‘Then what is killing them?’

“The Jaguar Queen looked the Boy over again. ‘You have asked your question and I have answered. Moreover, a child should not be meddling in the problems of adults. Run home Little Cub before your mother begins to worry.”

“ ‘I will not go until I receive an answer!’ The Boy demanded.

“The Jaguar Queen’s smile only grew. ‘It is not pretty, but if you wish to know so badly, little cub, then let me tell you.’ She beckoned him with a flick of her spotted tail.

“For a moment, the Boy hesitated. The Jaguar Queen’s jaws were stained with blood, and her fangs glistened. But he took a breath and stepped forward, slowly and carefully, until he was nose to nose with the Jaguar Queen. He could smell the death that lingered on her fangs and feel the power radiating from her breath. She pressed her muzzle to his ear and shared with him the secret of the villagers’ deaths. Once she was done, she stepped back and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the Boy alone with a secret darker than the night around him.

“The Boy walked home, heart heavy and mind clouded. When he returned to the village, a party had already been formed with the purpose to kill the Jaguar Queen. At its head was the Man. Seeing him made the Boy shake and shiver. When the villagers demanded to know where he had been, all he could do was stammer and insist that the Jaguar Queen was not the culprit.

“But the villagers would not listen. They scolded him for crossing the river before his blessing and reprimanded him for meddling in the affairs of the adults. He tried to tell him that the Jaguar Queen was not guilty, for he spoken to her himself, but when they prodded and pressed him to know who had done it, he couldn’t tell them. When his eyes flashed to the Man, any words he had died in his throat.

“After one last slap, they dragged the boy to his house and threw him at the feet of his mother. With a final shout, the villagers were off to find the Jaguar Queen.

“But the Boy knew he couldn't sit and hide in the shadows, so after sending a quick prayer to the Gods and an apology to his mother, he climbed out his window and-” Akaashi’s voice cracks. He lets out a long breath and looks to Koutarou. “Can you guess what happened to the Boy?”

Koutarou blinks. He is still so lost in Akaashi’s words. “He warns the villagers and the Jaguar Queen lives?”

Akaashi clicks his tongue. “The Boy dies at the hands of the Man, who was the true killer all along, wanting nothing more than power and prestige.”

Koutarou’s stomach drops. “Oh…. That’s so sad.”

“Not really,” Akaashi continues through the forest, Koutarou following not one step behind. The trees end abruptly and before them is the river. “It’s believed that the Gods were so moved by the boy’s bravery and understanding that they granted him powers to protect the jungle and the villagers alike.”

“Ooh so it _is_ a happy story then,” Koutarou says with a smile.

Akaashi shrugs. “It’s just a story, neither happy nor sad,” he replies and plops himself down on the bank.

“But he became a God, right? Then it’s happy.”

Akaashi turns and meets Koutarou’s gaze. “He still had to die and leave behind his village and his family.”

Akaashi’s eyes are even more vibrant and green than Koutarou remembers. They are the color of the trees mixed with the color of the shadows. They’re endless and harder to navigate than the jungle itself. Once Koutarou thinks he latched onto an emotion it’s gone in a flash.

They stay staring at each other, breathing in each other’s air for a moment or two or twelve. Koutarou doesn’t keep track, just loses himself in Akaashi’s eyes. Eventually, the other turns his head, and Koutarou is snapped back to reality. He hadn’t realized he’d been leaning forward until Akaashi leans away, ever so slightly, and his chest is sliced open.

Curling in on himself, Koutarou turns his attention to the river. “Where did you hear that story?”

“M-my mother,” Akaashi says through a lump in his throat. Before Koutarou can further ask about his family Akaashi looks up at the darkening sky. “I have to go,” he mumbles and looks to Koutarou. “Can you find your way back?”

“Oh, of course, it’s just-”

“Never mind. I’ll walk with you,” Akaashi says, standing suddenly. He looks ready to bolt but pauses just long enough to pull Koutarou to his feet.

Akaashi’s hand was warm and his palm smooth. When he pulls away, a jot runs down Koutarou’s spine. It was like being shocked by static electricity, but without the pain.

Akaashi starts back into the forest and Koutarou follows. After the story, Akaashi looks brighter almost, and there is a second when Akaashi passes through the shadow of a tree that Koutarou thinks he glowing. Koutarou can’t help but wonder what kind of mother tells stories of a little boy being killed by his own village, but after countless dark nursery rhymes and Grimm fairy tales, Koutarou can't exactly blame the woman.

Akaashi stops before the ruins begin to appear “I need to go,” he mumbles again, fiddling with the bead on his neck. “I’m sorry I just-”

“It’s fine, go, go,” Koutarou says, shooing him away.

Something, a hint of a smile maybe, plays across Akaashi’s face for a second. “Thank you, Bokuto. And thank you for listening as well.”

“I-it’s nothing,” Koutarou mumbles. “You tell nice stories. Well, not nice… _exactly_ , but you’re a good storyteller and I’d like to hear more. I-if you would be okay with that.”

Red flashes across Akaashi’s face. “I would…” He says, and with one last smile, which is most certainly a smile, the guide vanishes as if sucked away by shadows.

Koutarou sighs and presses a hand to his chest to slow down his pounding heart, before turning and stepping back into the ruins. He finds Kenma and Tetsurou easily, tucked against the walls of one of the nearest ruined houses. They already have a small fire going to burn water.

Tetsu smiles at him as he approaches. “Hey, hey, hey lover boy!” Tetsurou hoots.

It’s Koutarou’s turn to flush as he sits down alongside Tetsu.

“How was your chat with Akaashi?” Tetsurou asks, nudging him all the way. “Learn anything else about our mysterious village.”

“N-no,” Koutarou mumbled, “he just told me a story.”

“About what?”

“A boy and the Jaguar Queen.”

Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “Well, while you were off listening to children stories, Ken and I got a look around.”

“It’s just ruins,” Kenma says before Tetsu can continue. “Granted, some of them are in good shape, but there isn’t much else. Most of the stuff looks like it was destroyed a long time ago.”

“So no treasure,” Tetsurou continues. “But we’ll find some. We just need you, to get your boyfriend to tell us where it is.”

“A-Akaashi isn’t my boyfriend!” Koutarou squeaks.

Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Besides, he said it himself, he doesn’t know what’s here.”

“But he knew _about_ this place,” Tetsurou presses on, “We didn’t come here by accident. We had no reason to cross the river and yet we did. He planned this, he had to. He practically admitted that earlier! There’s something going on. You saw him; the closer we were got the more distant he became. But, I’m willing to bet he’ll talk to _you,_ Bo. Didn’t you want an adventure? Didn’t you want treasure? If we get this, your photographs might actually end up in Nat Geo or the New York Times or somewhere. _You_ could be famous, and _we_ could be rich if we find this treasure. Think about it! No student debts, nice houses, nice cars. We’d be set.”

Koutarou raises an eyebrow. “Are we sure there even is any treasure?”

“We aren’t,” Kenma says, cutting Tetsurou off and gestures to the rest of the ruins. “It’s likely that this is all there is. But Akaashi is hiding something, and it might be good to figure out what.”

“And that something could be treasure. He wouldn’t tell us that, but,” Tetsurou insists and throws an arm around Koutarou. “He would tell you that.”

“I-I don’t know about that…” Koutarou mumbles. They talk, sure, but Akaashi is still guarded, even around him.

“Of course he would! He talks to you. He actually tries to answer your questions. He lets you take pictures of it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he _likes_ you.”

Koutarou’s face heats up rapidly and he jerks away from Tetsurou’s touch. “N-n-no he’d doesn’t! I… you can’t just say things like that!”

“I’m your best bro. Do you think I would lie to you?” Tetsurou huffs. He looks almost offended, but when Koutarou opens his mouth to apologize, that look is quickly reshaped into a smirk. “Just use your handsome face and that wonderful personality to charm the shit out of him. And if he tells you anything, let us know.”

Koutarou looks between Kenma and Tetsurou, his stomach flipping and chest tightening. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Dude! We’re your friends. Sure Akaashi is hot, but you’ve known him for what? Not even two weeks? You’ve known us for years. This is our chance to have the adventure we’ve always wanted and make the money we’ve always dreamed of. We only have four more days here; let’s make it count. Right?”

Tetsurou gives his shoulder and squeeze and beams at him. Koutarou sends a wobbly smile back his way. “Y-yeah, you’re right. Let’s make it count.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look a slightly earlier update because I know I won't have any time otherwise. Hope you all enjoy the update!

Keiji is emotionally and physically drained as he steps out of the shallow pond in the middle of his Artifact Room. Despite his sluggishness, a new but familiar energy buzzes and crackles under his skin. His fingers tingle with it, and when he breathes out some of it is released into the air in sparks of green. The energy is raw and fresh, and his body doesn’t know what to do with all of it.

The doors open before him, and he steps into his garden, ready to face whatever Suga and Oikawa have for him. But neither God is there. Breathing a sigh of relief, he makes his way through the gardens. In the corner of his eyes, he sees his nymphs, watching with unmasked wonder. He knows they can feel it too, this old power renewed.

It’s like when he was first granted his abilities all those millennia ago. But back then he had a mentor, someone to walk him through the training and the careful concentration needed to wield such a force. Now, all he has is himself and his friends, but the longer he can keep them at bay the better.

His Wing is quiet and still. As he passes potted plant after potted plant, he can’t help but reach out and brush his fingers against them. He doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to concentrate, the energy flows freely from his fingertips once he lets it, and the plants blossom. He expands a new palm until it almost touches the ceiling, and sends a vine of ivy around the entirety of a window.

It’s draining, and he can feel the energy slip out of his body faster than he wishes it would, but if he wants to sleep he’ll need to drain as much of it as possible. After all, he already knows the power will be overflowing in the morning.

He is almost to his bedchamber when he hears the frantic footsteps from farther down the hall. Taking a breath, Keiji picks up his pace.

He’s about to reach the door when a loud voice echoes down the hallway, “Lord Akaashi Keiji, God of the Jungle and Protector of the Rainforest, stop right there!”

With a sigh, he turns around to meet Suga’s glare with one of his own. “What can I help you with, Lord Sugawara Koushi, God of Fortune and Luck, and Lord Oikawa Tooru, God of Passion and Lust?”

Oikawa cackles, and Keiji sends the glare to him next. “Someone’s in a mood,” Oikawa huffs.

Keiji is about to snap back when movement catches the corner of his eye. Near the end of the hallway, peering around a corner is a brave nymph. The last thing he needs is for the nymphs to start any rumors. Keiji turns and opens the doors of his bedchamber. “Please, come in,” he says with fake politeness.

“A meeting in your bedchamber?” Oikawa coos, slipping in after Keiji, “How scandalous.”

Heat pools in Keiji’s gut, foreign and artificial. It expands as he turns around to shoot another glare towards the God of Passion. “You can stand in the hallway if you’d like,” Keiji snaps back, and all at once the heat is gone.

Oikawa pouts and slinks over to the chaise lounge, draping himself over it. “And you say I’m the dramatic one!”

Rolling his eyes, Keiji pulls over a chair and sinks into it. With all the constant moving he never realized how tired he actually is. He woke up before dawn in the Gods’ Realm, and now it is well after midnight. In fact, he’d rather not think about how soon it is until the next sunrise. He lets out another silent breath, but this one is highlighted by another set of green sparks. Both Suga and Oikawa watch with widened eyes.

“Sorry…” Keiji mumbles, covering his mouth. “That’s been happening for a while now.”

“It’s okay, your body is just re-adjusting to having to store that much power,” Suga says.

Keiji knows that, but it’s still nice to hear some else say it. It makes the idea of him regaining what he had lost more real.

Oikawa rests his chin on his hands and smiles. “What did I say? You’re getting your powers back! It’s because you showed them the ruins, didn’t you?”

“I…” Keiji blinks then looks at his lap. He can’t bring himself to meet their eyes. “Yes, I did.”

“How did it feel?” Oikawa asks. “I know we go to the temple a lot, but you rarely go to those old ruins, especially with other people. That must’ve been an experience.”

Keiji’s throat closes up. He hadn’t allowed himself to go that far into the ruins. He couldn’t, not while a small part of his brain reminded him again and again that he was breaking his promise. 

Besides, the wounds were still fresh. He could still see the village for what it had been all those thousands of years ago. He could hear the children laughing, smell a hint of spiced rice over the wind, and see the ghosts of people walking up and down the streets. In the end, he never entered the ruins, never took a look around to see just how many buildings nature had claimed. He couldn’t even walk Bokuto back. He couldn’t look at it. It hurt too much.

“Keiji?” Oikawa’s voice is soft.

Suga’s hands wrap around his sides, pulling him in. “Shhh, it’s okay. You're okay. I’m sorry Keiji.”

“It’s fine,” he whispers, brushing the stay tears away with the back of his hand. “I brought this upon myself. I broke my own promise.”

“And it was worth it, wasn’t it?” Oikawa says. “You have your powers back, that’s great!”

Suga pulls away but leaves a hand on Keiji’s arm. “Which is what we have to talk about. Your abilities. If they’re coming back you need to tell The Council.”

“They were asking about you tonight, it’s not like you to miss an event.”

Suga nods. “We covered for you-”

“ _ I _ covered for you,” Oikawa corrects

“But you won’t be able to hide this for much longer. Your powers are expanding rapidly, Keiji, and The Council will find out one way or another.”

“That’s not going to be a problem,” Keiji insists, “In four days, they’ll be gone. With the barrier still up, it is impossible for anyone else to find the village. Give it a month, they’ll forget I even exist, and my powers will fade to what they used to be.”

“But it doesn’t have to-”

Oikawa is cut off when Suga raises his hand. Slowly, he turns back to Keiji. “You can still talk with The Council and tell them what happened. Tooru and I will testify for you as well. They might not be happy about the mortals, but… we can make it work. I can break the barrier. We can pretend that it’s been down for a while. They don’t have to know about the mortals or any of the time you spent in the Mortal Realm..”

“But if they find out about Bokuto, and Kuroo, and Kozume-”

“Their memories will be wiped, and they’ll move on with their lives like none of this had ever happened,” Oikawa says simply.

The realization hits Keiji like a punch to the gut. His chest constricts, and his head spins. The idea of putting them through that, of putting Bokuto through that makes him sick. To have your memories stolen is like having someone drill into your mind and cut away a piece of you. You don’t realize that something is gone, but you are forced to live with the hole. Keiji has seen The Council do it far more times than he ever wished. He’s seen the damage it causes, seen the confusion and the pain.

He knows that Bokuto would forget about him. That was an expectation from the beginning. Mortals forget. That’s how it is, but their other memories would still be intact. He’d remember the place and the experiences but have no face for the God they had those experiences with. 

If Keiji is to go to The Council, and he will have to eventually, before The Council comes to him, he needs to keep them as far away from Bokuto and the others as possible. Because while the thought of Bokuto forgetting him hurts - it’s hurts so much, Keiji doesn’t want to dwell on that thought - the thought of him being  _ forced _ to forget hurts more. Keiji just wants to protect them and protect Bokuto, because if anything happens to him Keiji isn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself.

The thought and the feelings are hot and boiling, drowning him from the inside. He can’t breathe. He can’t think of anything aside from that stilly mortal with the ridiculous hair and the golden eyes that shine brighter than Keiji’s own Artifact. The heat that pools in his chest is similar to the heat Oikawa created earlier. He looks to Oikawa; the God of Passion relaxes on the chaise lounge with a bored expression, picking at his nails. Keiji’s stomach drops. These things, these  _ feelings _ , aren’t being generated by Oikawa.

Suga is the only one watching him, and his mouth falls open very slowly. “Oh Keiji…” he whispers, “I… oh Gods. I’m so sorry.” And just like that, Keiji finds himself wrapped back in Suga’s warm hug.

“Koushi? Keiji?” Oikawa sits up and looks between the two. “What’s happening? What did I miss?”

Keiji shakes his head against Suga’s chest. He can’t say it. To say it would be treason. He lifts his head slightly and meets Suga’s warm gaze. The God of Fortune gives him another squeeze, and Oikawa’s frown grows.

“Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless they’re shared with everyone,” the God of Passion grumbles.

Suga sends Keiji a questioning look, and Keiji nods slightly before burying his face in Suga’s tunic.

“Keiji…” Suga’s words trail off and, for a moment, are replaced by soft mutterings. 

Keiji peers up in time to see the walls ripple with silver light. A silencing spell. Anyone outside of the room wouldn't be able to hear what they say, as long as all the doors and windows remain closed. He allows himself a moment to curl back into Suga’s tunic, wrapping himself in his friend’s comfort.

Suga shifts slightly then turns back to where Oikawa is sitting. “Keiji is in love with a mortal.”

Keiji flinches at the words as if struck by a physical blow. Silence settles uncomfortably over the room. Keiji doesn’t need to look up to know Oikawa is watching him. He can feel the God’s eyes. 

“Keiji,” Oikawa’s voice is surprisingly soft and muted. “Is that true?”

Keiji untangles himself from Suga and sits up, gathering his thoughts and his breath. The words don’t come. It’s hard to think. All he can see if Bokuto’s kind eyes and his bright personality. Keiji wants nothing more than to melt into the floor or turn into one of the potted plants by his window.

His face must say it all before Oikawa says, “You’re serious? You’re in love with a mortal? That’s terrible.  _ They’re _ terrible. Keiji, you of all people should know how terrible they are!”

“Not all of them,” Keiji snaps. “That one was, but Bokuto… they’re all kind and understanding. I know you won’t believe me, but they’re  _ good _ . I can feel it.”

Oikawa groans and runs his hands down his face. “This is why I stay away from humans.”

Suga snorts. “What about Iwaizumi?”

“Hajime isn’t a human.”

“He  _ was _ .”

“That’s different,” Oikawa says. “I didn’t… he’s no longer a human, and when he was we were never… Whatever. I had enough Influence that it didn’t matter. Keiji doesn’t have that, not anymore.”

Oikawa’s words, though they sting, are the truth. Keiji can’t deny that. He lost his Influence all those centuries ago when the fire took his people. Back then, talking to and walking among the mortals wasn’t exactly welcomed, but it was tolerated and ignored because of the power he had. Now, The Council will have no choice but to punish him and Bokuto and the others if they find out how deeply Keiji has interfered. Unless his powers expand overnight, The Council would be forced to step in, and Bokuto would be forced to forget (which he would anyway, but Keiji doesn’t want to think about that), and Keiji would never see him again. 

There has to be a way to sidestep The Council, there usually is, even without the conventional methods of Status and Influence. Without Bokuto being forced to forget. Without Bokuto ever forgetting. 

“I’ll show him the temple,” Keiji says quietly.

In a second, two sets of eyes are on him, watching him with some mixture of interest and confusion.

“I’ll show Bukoto the temple. He’ll have no choice but to believe,” Keiji says again, louder and with more confidence. The more he talks, the more the pieces fall together. “I’ll get a spike of power from that, and  _ then _ we’ll move the barrier. Instead of being around the jungle, it’ll only be around the temple. People will come to see the ruins, but they won’t be able to see the temple, but they’ll  _ know _ of it. It’ll take a few months, but my power will expand, and then we can talk to The Council. By that time, they won’t be able to do anything to Bokuto or me. It’s perfect.”

“Except for the fact that some mortal will have to step into your temple,” Oikawa says with a dry laugh. The moment it dies out he stares Keiji down with an intensity that Keiji hasn’t seen in quite some time. “He could tell someone. He could take pictures. What if he finds your Artifact Room? Then what? Keiji, he’s a mortal, and this plan of yours is ridiculous.”

“He’s not  _ just _ a mortal,” Keiji bites back, “and he wouldn’t do anything like that. I know him. He’ll understand.”

“And what happens when he starts asking questions? What will you tell him Keiji, since lying is  _ so _ below you?” Oikawa asks, eyes narrowing and lips curling back down into a frown.

“It’s risky,” Suga agrees, “and Oikawa is right. There are a lot more factors to this than just getting your power back. Will you tell him that you’re a God? What will happen when you do? He’s a mortal Keiji, whether it’s four days from now or eighty years, he’s going to leave you and you won’t be able to do anything about that. And what about his friends? What about the one that you don’t trust?”

“Just because he doesn’t like me, doesn’t mean I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t know, Keiji,” Suga continues after a breath, “but from what you’ve told me, that mortal is too perceptive. You should think about this for at least another day before you run off an-”

“Weren’t you the one telling me that I can make a decision on my own and that I should trust myself?” Keiji snaps and turns to Oikawa, “And didn’t you tell me to get my powers back? Well, that’s what I’m doing. I’m getting my powers back, and I’m doing this on my own terms. I don’t know why you’re both so upset about this!”

“I just think you should take more time to think about this,” Suga says.

“And I’m worried about your safety,” Oikawa adds, “what you’re talking about is dangerous, for yourself and for those damn mortals.  _ Think _ Keiji, don’t just run off. That temple is your lifeblood and those ruins were your home. For fuck’s sake! You made a promise almost two millennia ago, and you’ve done an amazing job of keeping it. Are you just going to let that go for a mortal you’ve known for a week? If you run into this blindly, you’re going to regret it later.”

Keiji rises from the chair. It’s going to be dawn in the Mortal Realm soon; he can tell, he can feel it. He looks to his bead and confirms the time. “You said it yourself, that promise was made to ghosts. And maybe I don’t need to think this through,” Keiji says, slipping back into his shoes. “Maybe I can listen to my heart this time.”

“Keiji, I didn’t mean-”

“Where are you going?” Suga asks, cutting Oikawa off.

“Out,” Keiji responds, heading for the door.

“You didn’t sleep!”

“Whose fault is that?” Keiji snaps, stopping at the door of his bedroom.  “Feel free to stay and have breakfast, I’m sure the nymphs will listen to you as much as they listen to me.”

“Keiji, this is madness,” Oikawa says.

Suga stands up and follows him to the door. “Tooru and I will leave, and you can sleep, even for just a few hours. When we’re all clear-headed we can talk this through, okay?”

Keiji frowns. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then let me do this my way.” Keiji turns and storms out into the hallway.

There’s yelling behind him, but it’s only yelling. There are no footsteps. The nymphs are either all busy preparing breakfast or know better than to cross his path. He marches through his Wing and out into the garden. He’s exhausted and pissed, but he has to do this. It’s either now or never. He has four days. Three now, and then Bokuto will begin to forget him, and any chances of getting his powers back will split through his fingers. He’s not sure he can deal with either of those things.

But Oikawa was right, he did make a promise. To protect the legacy of his people, not to hide the ruins or guard the temple for the rest of eternity. To protect a legacy. He was still going to do that, he was just taking a different approach.

His bead buzzes, cutting off his thoughts. It’s Suga. He pauses for a moment in the middle of his garden and unclips the necklace. He considers picking it the call, but he doesn't want to get yelled at again. After looking the necklace over, he tosses it into one of the bushes. 

With one last breath, he marches back to his Artifact Room.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate title of this chapter would be: And Now No One Sleeps. Hope you all enjoy!

Koutarou finds himself waking as the sun rises. He shimmies out of his bug net, brushes off a few stray ants, and grabs his camera. He walks himself through the ruins, weaving between the trees on what Tetsu claims are ancient roads. He doesn’t walk through the whole complex. He doesn’t know if he can. It’s much larger than he had believed it to be.

He turns the corner onto another street, and there, standing amidst the overgrowth, is Akaashi. Even in his light shirt and clean shorts he looks like he belongs among the trees and stones. A specter from the past. Koutarou lifts his camera and snaps a picture just as Akaashi turns around.

“I was about to go looking for you,” he says, approaching Koutarou. “But it appears you found me first.”

As he nears, Koutarou realizes three things all at once. The first is that Keiji’s shirt and shorts are the same ones he wore the day before. They’re wrinkled and worn in a way that is very un-Akaashi-like. The second is the bags that hang under Akaashi’s eyes. He almost misses them because Akaashi’s skin looks softer and brighter than ever, but they’re there nonetheless. The final thing is that Akaashi’s necklace is gone. It’s not as though the bead is tucked into his shirt, it’s as though the braided string has vanished altogether.

Koutarou has the urge to ask about all three of these things. He, however, does not get that chance, because as exhausted as Akaashi appears, there’s a new light in his eyes: a mixture of determination and something else. Koutarou almost wants to call if affection, but that might be Tetsurou’s words getting to him, making him see things that aren’t actually there. 

But when the light shines at just the right angle, and Akaashi’s face lights up, Koutarou doesn’t care if they were Tetsurou’s words or facts. Because if Akaashi wasn’t irresistible before, he certainly is now.

“I… uh… yes,” Koutarou stammers because when Akaashi stands in front of him, shimmering, bright, and beautiful, he can no longer think straight. “I found you!”

A hint of a smile teases across Akaashi’s lips. “You did.”

Koutarou swallows. “Yup.”

“I have a question,” Akaashi says after a breath, and Koutarou nods, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “More of a request really. Would you go on a hike with me?”

“Yes! Of course! If you want I can go get Tetsu and Kenma. They’re probably still at camp.’”

“This is going to sound a little odd, but I wondering if we could go... alone.”

Koutarou’s throat dries and his heart pounds so quickly and so hard against his ribs he’s surprised it doesn’t break right out of his chest. “I- sure. Yes. Yes, please.”

Akaashi really does smile at that. “Wonderful.”

“Do I need my bag or…”

“We should be back by sunset,” Akaashi says, turning and walking confidently in the direction from which Koutarou came. It’s good that he knows the way because Koutarou isn’t quite sure if he could think clearly enough to get them to their makeshift camp.

When they arrive, Tetsurou and Kenma are awake and cleaning up from whatever quick meal they made. Tetsurou smiles at Akaashi, though Koutarou doesn’t miss the tenseness around his jaw.

“I guess we should pack up,” Tetsu says through a forced laugh. “We only have three days to get back to the city after all.”

Three days. Koutarou’s stomach drops. He’d forgotten that they agreed on two weeks, no more no less. If he and Akaashi are going out alone, does that give them another day? Does he get more time before he has to say goodbye? Does he get more time before he never sees Akaashi ever again?

“No need to pack,” Akaashi says briskly, “Bokuto and I are going on a hike.”

Tetsurou’s rather forced smile, shifts into a cat-like grin. “Oh?” He raises both eyebrows and looks from Akaashi to Koutarou. “I see. That’s good. I… Ken and I were hoping we could stick around and get some more pictures of the surrounding area. But the three of us don’t all need to be here.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Akaashi agrees, then turns to Koutarou. “Grab whatever you need.” With that, Akaashi walks off and slips back into the forest.

Koutarou makes his way to his own pack, and Tetsurou meets him there. Throwing an arm over Koutarou’s shoulder, Tetsurou laughs and says, “What did I tell you?”

A nervous laugh spills from Koutarou’s lips. “H-he asked. I’m sure it’s just to show me some more birds or something. I-it’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. Well, go get 'em, tiger,” Tetsurou laughs again as he wedges his elbow right between Koutarou’s ribs. “What time do you plan on coming back? Or will this adventure end in a passionate night spent in the jungle? You know I heard that certain saps make great-”

Koutarou pushes Tetsurou away, sending him into the dirt. His face burns. “He said we’d be back before or around sunset.”

“Shame,” Tetsurou says, dusting himself off. “Ken and I will use this time to look for anything valuable.”

“Why do I have to help?” Kenma asks, nose wrinkled. Koutarou hadn’t even heard him walk over.

“Bo’s gonna be busy, and more than one pair of eyes are needed for this. Plus, you’re like the best at finding weird things. You’re the one who found that doll and the coin after all.”

Kenma frowns. “And you’re the one obsessed with them. Besides,” his eyes drift back to the ruins, and for a second it’s like he’s concentrating on something past the rubble and trees. “I don’t like it here.”

“You just don’t like the outdoors, Kitten,” Tetsurou says, ruffling Kenma’s hair.

“That’s not it.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t,” Kenma bites back. “I don’t… this place feels weird. I don’t know how you two can just ignore it, but I can’t.”

Tetsurou throws an arm over Kenma’s shoulder. “We’re in the middle of the jungle, hidden among previously undiscovered ruins. This place isn’t exactly normal.”

Kenma frowns and it looks as though there’s more than he wants to say, but instead he just folds his arms across his chest and mumbles, “fine. I’ll help. It’s not there's anything else to do here.”

“Great!” Tetsurou looks back to Koutarou. “Now you go hang out with lover boy, Ken and I have this place covered. And remember to actually take pictures. Your boy, Akaashi, still thinks we work for a magazine after all.”

“Right.”

After one last goodbye, Koutarou is off into the jungle. It doesn’t take long to find Akaashi. He’s perched on a stump, running his fingers down the leaves of a fern. It unfurls under his fingers. Koutarou lifts his camera, but before he can press the shutter-release button, Akaashi says, “I thought that was you.”

Koutarou lets his camera go and scratches the back of his neck. “What gave it away?”

“Your footsteps,” Akaashi says, slipping off the stump. Koutarou almost swears he sees the fern droop when Akaashi pulls away from it. “You sound like a drove of wild boars.”

“Sorry,” Koutarou mumbles sheepishly.

Akaashi shakes his head, the corner of his lips still curled in something that is almost a smile. “Let’s go, we have a long hike ahead of us. I hope you brought water?”

Koutarou nods and jogs so that he is walking beside Akaashi. They start off through the jungle. Koutarou as his hands on his camera, ready for whatever wildlife may come their way.

Perhaps it’s the day, or maybe it’s this side of the river, but there are birds and monkeys and other animals everywhere. It takes most of Koutarou’s control not to stop Akaashi every five seconds so that he can take a picture of some new creature.

He finally does ask Akaashi to stop. He can’t help it. Not when there’s an owl, perched on a branch, overhead, almost shadowed out by the leaves. Koutarou is silent and concentrated and he finds the perfect angle to get a picture of the owl through the leaves. Once he get’s the shot he could only have dreamed of, they’re off once again.

“I didn’t actually think there were owls in the jungle,” Koutarou exclaims once they are on their way again.

“There are,” Akaashi says, “I wouldn’t have thought we would see any, but I suppose it is still early in the morning.”

“The jungle’s amazing.”

“That’s what I always say.” Akaashi glances over to Koutarou, eyes shining with that strange unknown emotion and a hint of curiosity. “What is your favorite animal, Bokuto? I apologize if I’ve already asked.”

“Owls,” Koutarou says. He doesn’t think they’ve had this conversation before, but he wouldn’t care if they did. He could have the same conversation with Akaashi every day and he’s sure it would never get boring. “They’re so magnificent and beautiful. Did you know that they’re completely silent when the fly? Most are nocturnal too, which makes them really hard to photograph, and I’m from the city so you don’t see them much. And the calls they make are so interesting!”

“You certainly like them, don’t you?”

“Yeah. What’s your favorite animal, Akaashi?”

They walk in silence for a minute or so while Akaashi thinks. “Owls as well.”

“Really?”

“Or jaguars.”

Koutarou’s eyes widen. “Have you ever seen a jaguar?”

“A few times,” Akaashi admits.

“Do you think we’ll see one?”

Akaashi shrugs. “I can’t say. They aren’t something that you go looking for. They have to want to be found.”

“I’ve never seen a jaguar in the wild. Only in a zoo.”

“A zoo?” Akaashi raises an eyebrow and Koutarou blinks at him.

“You know what a zoo is, right?”

Akaashi flushes slightly and turns quickly. He takes a couple of steps until Koutarou can no longer see his expression. “I-I know what it is. I’ve just never been to one.”

“Really?”

“I don’t get out of the jungle much,” Akaashi admits softly.

“Have you ever been to a city or to another country?”

Akaashi studies Koutarou’s expression for a few seconds. “Promise you won’t laugh?” Koutarou nods quickly. “I haven’t been to either.”

“Not even the city right outside of the jungle?”

Akaashi shakes his head.

“We’ll fix that! You can come visit me and I can show you the city and we can go to the zoo together. I’m guessing that you’ve never seen the ocean either.” Akaashi shakes his head. “Then we’ll go there! I’ll be the best guide ever, you’ll see.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “Even better than me?”

“N-no… no one can be better than you! But I’ll be the best city guide ever.”

Akaashi laughs and sends another smile to Koutarou. This one has hints of white teeth. It’s a miracle Koutarou remains standing. “I’ll take your word for it then.”

They fall into light banter, but Koutarou can’t get it out of his head. Akaashi said that he’ll see him again. Akaashi sounded like he  _ wanted _ to see him again. It causes Koutarou’s stomach to bubble and his chest to lighten. Maybe Tetsurou was right,  maybe Akaashi does like him back.

It’s around noon when Koutarou realizes that they’ve been hiking uphill for the last hour or so. Even as he sweats buckets, Akaashi doesn’t look even a bit tired. He appears comfortable. The more light pools in from the thinning canopy, the more Koutarou realizes that they’re following a path. It’s nothing official, but it’s definitely been used before. The plants are parted ever so slightly and the ground is beaten down and smooth.

It isn’t until the trees have really started to thin and a more noticeable path along the mountainside is visible,\ that Koutarou really becomes curious. “Where are you taking me?” He asks. “You aren’t going to murder me and sacrifice me to the Jaguar Queen or something, right?”

Akaashi chuckles softly as if he’s trying to hide his laughter. Koutarou his happy to say that he definitely heard it. “The Jaguar Queen doesn’t accept human sacrifice, but I promise I won’t murder you. I just… there’s something I want you to see. Trust me, okay?”

“Of course,” Koutarou replies.

They continue up the mountain. The partial path turns into a very distinct path, carved into the mountainside. It even has its own carved out steps. They’re uneven and worn from wind and weather, but for being seemingly ageless, they are in good shape.

It’s harder to talk when they are walking single file up rather steep stairs, so they remain rather quiet. During one water break, Koutarou turns and looks over the jungle. They’re just over the tree line, and Koutarou can see far out to the northern mountains, which lie past the city. The jungle looks like an endless green ocean below them. It’s breathtaking. 

He looks over to Akaashi, seated at the edge of the path, his feet hanging over the side of the cliff. It makes Koutarou’s stomach drop, but Akaashi looks comfortable, once again in his element. It’s as though he was made for all of this: the trees and the open air. Or maybe they were made for him.

He isn’t looking at Kotarou or even at the landscape in front of him, but studying a small flower beside him. His fingers trace its petals as though he made it himself, and Koutarou can’t resist the urge. He lifts his camera and takes a picture. Akaashi looks up not a second later – Koutarou is convinced he knows he just indulges Koutarou’s small obsession– and asks, “ready?”

A minute later they are back to hiking up the mountain. The higher they get, the steeper the slope. The steeper the slope, the more nervous Akaashi appears. He looks back at Koutarou constantly, as if he always has something he wants to say. But nothing comes out. He’s more jittery too, or maybe Koutarou’s imagining that. It’s hard to tell. There is, however, something in the air, a faint buzz, like the one he felt when they were first hiking in the jungle before they found Akaashi. But it’s so light he must be making it up. Akaashi must not feel it, or if he does, it doesn’t show. If Kenma were here he’d be able to tell them if it was real or not.

They make one last break at a flat surface before another set of stairs that turn sharply somewhere above them.

“I need to ask something of you. A few things actually,” Akaashi says as Koutarou takes another sip of water. Koutarou isn’t sure if he’s seen Akaashi drink ever - or eat now that he thinks about it. He’s not sure what to make of the thought. He shakes his head and gives his full attention to Akaashi. Akaashi takes a breath but doesn’t look at him. “I’m going to request that you don’t take pictures of what’s up here. You can’t tell Kuroo or Kozume, okay? I need you to promise me that. You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“Yes, of course,” Koutarou says quickly and traces an X over his heart. “On my word, I promise not to take any pictures and I…” He takes a breath and tries again. “I promise that Tetsu and Ken won’t ever hear about this.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I-I can’t have too many people knowing about this,” Akaashi says and finally looks at him, and the promise is suddenly worth it if it has Akaashi looking at Koutarou as though he trusts him with his soul. “We’re almost there. This last leg is steep, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The last leg is composed of the most painful staircase Koutarou has ever been up. The steps are steep and have received the worst of the weather. They’re uneven and some are loose. They turn back and forth in tight switchbacks that leave Koutarou gasping for breath. By the top of the stairs, Koutarou is breathless, but it’s not just the stairs that have his gasping for any air at all.

Before him, is a building that looks as though it has been carved into the mountain face. There is no door, just an open arch carved out of the stonework. On either side there look to have once been carvings into the temple face, but they are faded and covered with moss and vines. The entire temple looks worn out and even plain in places, and yet it looks beautiful, decorated in nature. 

“What is this place?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi says, standing beside him. Koutarou would almost say that he’s glowing with pride. “I... found it a few… I found it a while ago.”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“People don’t come into this jungle, for good reason too. It’s dangerous. So who would listen to some hermit who’s lived here his whole life?” There’s something else in Akaashi’s eyes, but Koutarou doesn’t know what it is and he’s not given much time to figure it. “Well, would you like to go inside?”

“Y-yes!” Koutarou gasps.

The inside is more ornate and spectacular than the outside. It’s a single open room. The center is lined on either side with simple columns of a design Koutarou could never name. All he knows is that they aren’t Greek. Maybe Tetsurou would know. But Koutarou will never be able to ask, so there’s no point in wondering.

At the end of the rows of columns is what looks like a raised platform with another slab of stone on top, almost like an altar of sorts. Koutarou stops near the center of the temple and looks down. At his feet is a seal, the symbol carved into it is so worn he can’t tell what it was.

“This place…” Koutarou tries to find the words but he can’t. “It’s amazing Akaashi.”

“Can you see why I don’t want too many people to know about it?” Akaashi says, standing beside Koutarou. “I don’t want… I want to preserve it.”

“Yeah…” Before Koutarou can add anything remotely intelligent, he looks at Akaashi and the past Akaashi. “What’s that?”

He sweeps past Akaashi and stands in front of the wall on the far right. Carved and painted into the wall is a mural. It’s long since faded but the basics are visible. It’s a figure, male if the broad shoulders and toned body is anything to go by, surrounded by vines and flowers. The closer Koutarou looks the more it looks as though the plants are coming out of the man’s hands. 

It hits Koutarou all at once. “He’s a God… and this…” he turns to Akaashi, eyes wide. “This is a temple.”

Akaashi gives a small nod but doesn’t add anything. Koutarou looks back at the mural and then at Keiji, beautiful and perfect Akaashi who is smiling at him. In the dim light of the temple, Akaashi’s eyes glow a vibrant green and his skin is clear and almost shimmery. The bags under his eyes are gone, and he has this new shine to him. He no longer looks like the exhausted guide who picked him up. Instead… instead, he looks ethereal, like a spirit or…

Koutarou glances back towards the mural. “The God looks just like you,” Koutarou says softly. “No wonder you’re so beautiful, you have the face of a god!”

Heat floods Koutarou’s face, and he knows Akaashi heard him because his cheeks darken as well. “I mean… that… well… no, you are really pretty and stuff, but what I meant to say is…”

Akaashi laughs, maybe at his sputtering, or maybe just to loosen the tension that has suddenly gathered in the air. It doesn’t sound like a mean laugh, and that relaxes Koutarou some. 

“Thank you, Bokuto,” Akaashi mumbles, not quite meeting Koutarou’s gaze. Something electric runs between them, but before Koutarou can lean into Akaashi’s space, the other man steps back. 

They drift apart to walk around the space by themselves. Koutarou runs the words he said to Akaashi over and over again. He called Akaashi pretty and beautiful. Well, if he didn’t know Koutarou liked him before he knows now. He said thank you, though. That’s a good sign, right? Koutarou will have to ask Tetsurou, he seems to know more about this than Koutarou does.

Koutarou lets his eyes drift to Akaashi, who’s back on the other side of the temple, staring up that the mural. From the back, he looks exactly like the figure presented. The only thing missing are the plants

Without thinking, Koutarou takes off the lens cover, lifts the camera to his eyes, and snaps a picture.

 

The walk back is faster than the hike up. The air buzzes, not with that strange energy that Koutarou thought he felt around the temple, but an energy between him and Akaashi. It’s not comfortable but it isn’t uncomfortable either. Akaashi is more tactile on the way back as well. Their shoulders brush more times than what could be considered coincidental and he’s quick to offer Koutarou a hand and then slow to pull away.

By the time they reach the camp, Koutarou thinks he might pass out. Not from exhaustion - the hike was hard, but not that hard - but from an overdose of Akaashi. They stop just outside of where the ruins are, and for a few moments do nothing but look at each other.

Akaashi is the first to speak, “I have to go but this… this was very nice. Thank you for indulging me, Bokuto.”

“A-Anything,” Koutarou stammers. “Anything for you.”

Akaashi goes slightly red and lets out a breathy laugh. “I have to go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Akaashi smiles. “Of course.”

Before Koutarou knows what’s happening, Akaashi steps forward, leans up, and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. A blink later he’s gone as if the wind blew him away, and Koutarou is left with a pounding heart and what must be a very red face. He waits a few minutes before walking back to the campsite, but he must still be red because Tetsurou greets him with the biggest smirk.

“I take that your  _ date _ went well?”

Koutarou wants nothing more than to sit down and spill everything, but he remembers what Akaashi asked of him and just nods. Tetsurou raises an eyebrow and Koutarou sighs. He’s going to have to say something.

He ends up sitting between Kenma and Tetsurou once they tell him about what they found (a few pottery pieces but mostly nothing) and turns on his camera. He begins to flip through the pictures, retelling the parts of the hike that align with each picture. When they get to the photo of Akaashi sitting at the edge of the cliff, Koutarou freezes, blinks then looks at the picture again.

Tetsurou leans against his shoulder and lets out an appreciative hum. “Damn. I don’t know how you did it, but you turned an attractive man into an even more attractive man. Come on, Ken, even you have to admit Akaashi looks good in this photo. Like, he’s glowing!”

Tetsurou wasn’t wrong, Akaashi looks incredibly handsome as he strokes the petals of that flower. He is also literally glowing. It must be something with the exposure of the photo because Koutarou can’t recall him actually glowing. After all, humans don’t glow on their own.

For a moment Kenma just stares at the picture then he blinks and mumbles, “yeah… he looks good.”

Tetsurou laughs and reaches behind Koutarou to ruffle Kenma’s hair. “Now that wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

Kenma doesn’t respond, and Tetsurou laughs again, reaching across Koutarou to click to the next picture. Upon seeing it the air leaves Koutarou’s breath leaves his lungs and his head spins.

“Bo, what the fuck is that?”

“It’s n-nothing.” Bokuto clicks to the next picture as fast as he possibly can.

Tetsurou clicks back. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“A-Akaashi and I… we just… we…”

“Where did you go?” Tetsurou is no longer smiling, he’s not frowning either, though. He watches Koutarou with a stare that feels as though it’s made of fire. “Where did Akaashi take you?”

There’s no use in lying. Koutarou can’t even bother trying. Instead, he flips his camera off and stares at his shoes. “He took me to a temple…”

“What? He knew about a temple and didn’t say anything?”

“He didn’t think anyone would believe him,” Koutarou says softly. “Don’t be mad at him. He just doesn’t want too many people to know about it.”

“Why? He could be rich!” Tetsurou exclaims. “This….  _ This _ is what Nat Geo was talking about.  _ This _ is what they wanted.  _ This _ is the proof that a civilization was here.”

“Akaashi doesn’t want it to be ruined.”

“Are you kidding?” Tetsurou laughs. “It would be renovated, restored. Historians would take such good care of that thing. And we’ll get so, so,  _ so _ much money.” Something lights up in Tetsurou’s eyes. It’s a similar look to the one he had when he decided all those months ago, that they were going to the Black Jungle. “This is it. This is what we wanted. We have to go see it.”

“That’s not a good idea…”

“You just came back, you know the way!” Tetsurou jumps and races to his bag. “We don’t even have to take everything. Just grab your camera, and we’ll get water. It took you most of the day so… by midnight, right?” Tetsurou stops and turns around slowly. “What are you two waiting for? Let’s go!”

Koutarou shares a long look with Kenma. He can’t find the words to say no. Tetsu looks so excited but they can’t… he’s already betrayed Akaashi enough, he refuses to continue down this road. 

Kenma is the one who looks to Tetsurou and says, “No. This is a terrible idea. Let’s wait until the morning then talk to Akaashi about it.”

“Bo knows the way, why can’t we go now?”

“It’s the jungle and it’s night, why should we go now?”

“Why are you so against this Kenma?” Tetsurou shouts and waves his hands around, in the dark, it’s hard to tell what he’s holding, but there’s something in his hand. “You need the money just as much as I do. Imagine what you could do for your mother? You could move her out of the crappy apartment, and buy all the games you could ever want.”

“Kuro…”

“Come on, Bo,” Tetsu continues, setting down what looks to be his water bottle and slipping something else into his pocket. “This is what we’ve always wanted it. We wanted to end our summer adventures with a bang, well this is the bang!”

“I don’t know…” Koutarou mumbles. “Akaashi said…”

“Akaashi this, Akaashi that, you’ve known him what? Two weeks? How long have we known each other? Oh, right, almost eight years. Come on, bro. Kenma, you said it yourself, he was hiding something. Well, I bet this was it!” Tetsurou looks between Koutarou and Kenma, but neither of them moves. Koutarou isn’t sure he can. He felt bad about lying to Akaashi, but now this. This is breaking a promise.

“Fine!” Tetsurou huffs. “I’ll just go alone.”

At that, Kenma stands up. “No, you won’t. It’s dark and we’re in a jungle. You go out there alone, you’ll end up dead.”

Tetsurou huffs and pats his pocket. “That’s what guns are for. Now, are you in or out?” 

Kenma frowns and looks to Koutarou. “If we stick together and you’re our guide… we should be okay.”

“Come on dude,” Tetsurou says, softer. Koutarou can see the excited light slowly dying. “We’re friends aren’t we?”

Koutarou sighs and looks at his friends. Tetsurou has that look in his eyes that borders on madness. He’s going no matter what. Koutarou can either save them or leave them to fate.

Slowly, he stands. “Fine. But we’re back before dawn.”

Tetsurou breaks out into a large grin. “Akaashi will never know. Now come on, there’s treasure to find!”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy the update! 
> 
> CW: minor anxiety and violence

It’s midday by the time he returns to the Realm of the Gods once more. It’s quiet and peaceful. The sky is a reflective blue, and the only thing Keiji wants to do is curl up and sleep. The couches in his Artifact Room look comfortable, and the floor seems perfect. But he picks himself out of the pond and forces himself into the garden. After all, he still has a necklace to find.

He retraces his steps and stops by the rose bush he’s sure his bead should be in. But there’s nothing on top or around it. He forces himself to look for a solid ten minutes before resigning himself to the fact that one of the nymphs probably picked it up and he’ll retrieve it later.

A few minutes later he finds himself in his room. He doesn’t bother to change, just kicks off his shoes and collapses under the silken canopy. For the first time in what feels like forever, sleep comes quickly and painlessly.

 

For once, the forest of his dreams is not burning. Instead, it grows, expands and brightens all around him. New flowers bloom with each step he takes. The plants bend towards him, yearning for power and drinking up what Keiji feeds them.

“Keiji?” The name isn’t a scream or a cry. Instead, it’s soft like the leaves of a fern.

Keiji turns around. The clearing spreads out before him and at its center is a man. Dyed hair down and messy, eyes bright, and a smile playing across his lips. Keiji’s chest tightens as he walks towards Bokuto, a hand outstretched.

Their fingers brush against each other and then intertwine. Their eyes meet. Keiji is about to take another step and lean in when Bokuto’s expression shifts from something wonderful and peaceful into one of terror and pain. Keiji looks down at where their hands meet.

Thick vines have sprouted from the back of Keiji’s hands, and have moved up Bokuto’s arm, yanking him towards Keiji. Every time he struggles to pull away a new pair of thorns buries themselves in his arm. Keiji tries to stop it, but he can’t. The dam has broken and the power flows freely. No matter how hard he tries he can’t contain it, and no matter how much is used he doesn’t tire.

“What are you?” Bokuto asks, horrified.

“I’m sorry,” Keiji mumbles, trying to rip at the vines with his one free hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“Kenma was right…” Bokuto breathes, and his expression darkens. The forest does too until Keiji is alone with Bokuto, surrounded by nothing but blackness. “You’re a monster.”

“No! No, I can explain, I promise. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

 

Keiji bolts up, sweat dripping across his brow, chest heaving. No matter how much he breathes, his head is light and his body fuzzy. A fog clouds his mind, and he can’t think straight. He lifts his hands to rub his eyes but his hands are aching and heavy. Instead, he studies them. Sprouting from the middle of each of his palms are the beginnings of vines. They are not thick or thorny like in his dream, but they are there nonetheless.

He sucks in a sharp breath and the vines vanish back into his flesh, leaving smooth skin in their place. He wiggles his fingers and goes to lie down again after all the room is still bright with sunlight, he couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour, when another spike of power bursts through him like a punch to the gut. He’s standing a second later, head spinning, gaze unfocused. Everything seems slightly stilted or angled, and he grows more aware of the pressure in the back of his head.

Someone’s one the mountain, not some _ one _ , some  _ people _ , and they’re near the temple.

Breath catching in his throat, Keiji freezes by the bed, grasping one of the bed’s columns to balance himself. There wasn’t any way… they shouldn’t have been able to find it. The only way would be…

It’s only when spots dance across Keiji’s vision does he remember he has to breathe. Gasping for breath, his hands tightening around the bedpost. Only one mortal knows where the temple sits, no one else could have done it. The temple, even the path to the temple, isn’t something someone could accidentally stumble upon. It’s too well covered, Keiji made sure of that. 

It has to be Bokuto.

Keiji’s chest aches at the thought. His mind jumps around trying to find an excuse, a reason for them to end up on the mountain. But no matter how many trains of thought he follows he ends up in the same place: soft, messy silver hair and golden eyes.

Oikawa was right; mortals couldn’t be trusted, not anymore at least. Keiji should have known. After all the grave robbing, tomb raiding, and temple destruction he’s heard whispers of, he should have realized that mortals have changed. There’s a reason that the Gods walk among them less and less. Keiji should have taken that lesson to heart, but it’s too late to dwell on that now. He can pity himself once the mortals are out of his temple.

His hands reach for his neck, but he stops himself. The necklace is gone, and the time to find it has passed as well. 

This is what he gets for breaking his promise twice over.

He runs out of the room without even putting shoes on.

Though the energy he has is nonexistent, the extra boosts of power from their discovery of his temple propel him forward and mix well with sudden adrenaline. The only time he stops is at the doors of the Artifact Room, which take too long to open. By the time he reaches the pond, the anger in him as turned hot and condensed. He can feel it, floating, like a burning cloud trapped in his chest. When he looks at his hands, the vines are there again, he pulls them away with a frown. He had wanted more power, but not this way, not this fast. His body doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s too much. He’ll have to deal with this later when he isn’t brimming with anger. With another breath, he peers into the pond.

Another face is reflected in the water. Eyes look right at him. There’s no pause, no flash of recognition. Kuroo doesn’t see him. He’s saying something, Keiji can’t hear him, obviously, but Kuroo’s lips move. His hand comes forward as though he’s reaching out to Keiji, but his fingers stop, as though they’ve hit a barrier. He traces a shape against the water, looks up, and walks away. 

Keiji waits a few more moments before stepping into the water. His only hope is that all three of them are looking away. If they don’t seem him materialize from thin air, he can at least talk his way around his sudden appearance. If even one sees, the game is over before it’s even begun. 

Vines twist and crawl up his arms slowly. Keiji pauses, the first hints of panic settle in his chest. Even when he first got his powers they were never this spotty and sudden. Control, he needs control. He takes a slow breath and thinks them away, pulling the vines back into his skin and pushing the power deep into his bones. He does the same with the anger, pushing it down until it is no longer dancing across his skin, but bubbling just below the surface. If he can get them to leave, he can blow his top off in private.

He lets out a slow breath and allows the water to pull him away.

When he resurfaces it’s no longer sunny and cool but dark and muggy. He can hear them before he opens his eyes. He almost doesn’t, he almost can’t. But there’s a sharp breath from across the space, and he knows he’s been spotted.

Forcing his eyes open he looks at the mortals, who are standing too close to the dais for his comfort. Kuroo looks pale in the dim light that comes from his flashlight, Kenma is frozen in place, eyes wide, and Bokuto looks like he’s about to throw up.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo says, his voice light as ever. That familiar smile plays across his face, but even in the dark and ever from this far away, Keiji can tell it’s fake. “What are you doing here?”

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Keiji asks. He does nothing to keep the ice from his voice.

Kuroo clears his throat. “Well, you know, Bo mentioned something about a cool place to check out, and-”

“You aren’t supposed to be in here,” Keiji cuts him off. He has no patience for this, and no time for it either. The power waits, buzzing under his skin, itching to be released, and his anger is there as well. The longer they are in here, the worse the consequences will be. “Leave.”

Bokuto swallows and takes a step towards the entrance. “Guys we should probably-”

“No,” Kuroo says. “Why should we?” He turns back to Keiji, smile gone. “You lied to us. You’ve been lying to us from day one. You knew about this place, and you knew about the ruins. What else are you hiding from us?”

“Don’t act as if I was the only one with secrets,” Keiji says and takes a step off the seal. “Do any of you actually work for a magazine?”

The looks on their faces do more than enough to answer the accusation.

“How did you find us?” Kozume asks after a beat, eyes still narrowed on Keiji.

Keiji hesitates. “I followed you up the mountain.”

“Then why did you stop us when we were on-” The words die on Kozume’s tongue, and his eyes widen suddenly. He looks between Keiji, the mural, and the worn seal. Keiji can see the gears turning behind his eyes, and with a shaking breath,  Kozume takes a step back, drawing his arms around himself. “I… we should go,” he says suddenly, grabbing onto Kuroo’s shirt.

“Yes,” Bokuto agrees. “We should go. But before I-I’d like to apologize, Akaashi.” He shuffles forward awkwardly. Kozume reaches out towards Bokuto, but Kuroo catches his hand and pulls it away and Bokuto crosses the space between them and stands before Keiji, never looking up.

“This is my fault,” he says, so quietly that Keiji almost misses it. It’s hard to see in the dark – and that fact that he’s looking down doesn’t help – but something about the rawness of his expression pierces through Keiji’s chest. This is the Bokuto that Keiji knows. The Bokuto that is too kind and warm to do anything malevolent. It’s hard for Keiji to be angry when Bokuto wears such a worn and mournful expression.

“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me,” Bokuto continues, “I took a picture. I didn’t mean to! You just… you were so beautiful. I-I mean you’re always beautiful… er… you always look good, but that doesn’t matter! A-Anyway, I took a picture and they saw it. No one was supposed to but they did, and Tetsu started asking questions, and I can’t lie. So I told them. We weren’t supposed to go anywhere but Tetsu wanted to. Kenma and I wanted to ask you about it tomorrow but… anyway… that’s what happened. I’m so sorry, Akaashi.”

The anger lingers in Keiji’s veins, but it cools some. Bokuto still broke the two promises Keiji set for him, and the three of them are still here, but is it really his fault? Keiji was the one who showed him the temple. Was it reasonable to expect a mortal not to talk to his friends? The anger doesn’t subside but merely mixes with confusion. Keiji doesn’t know what to say, so he simply doesn’t.

Bokuto looks up slowly, almost nervously and meets Keiji’s gaze. He doesn’t look away this time, though the twitching in his fingers says he wants to. “I-I’m really sorry,” he mumbles, “I hope you can forgive us. We aren’t photographers; we just wanted an adventure. This is our last summer together and we wanted to make it memorable, and we did, because of you. You helped make these two weeks amazing so… thank you.”

Keiji is taken aback by the sudden thanks. He can feel his face heat slightly and curses himself. He’s still mad. Bokuto told them about the temple and went as far as to lead them there, breaking his promise. No soft smiles or kind words can talk around that.

“You’re an amazing guide, Akaashi,” Bokuto continues. The fidgeting with his fingers only gets worse. “You’re the only reason any of this happened, and I’m sorry this is how we repaid you. Still, even after this, I hope… I hope we’re still…  _ friends _ , because you’re so cool and nice to talk to and smart and… I just… I hope we can still see each other after this and hang out because,” Bokuto takes and shaking breath, rolling his shoulders slightly. Keiji straightens slightly and takes a breath that mimics Bokuto’s. “ I just have to say… Akaashi, I really-”

There’s a crack and a loud creak that echoes through the room. Keiji freezes, and his attention slides from Bokuto to the space behind him. Kozume stands by the side of the dais along the far back wall, staring at some dark space in the wall. It’s hard to see in the dark but Keiji knows what’s there, the open door that leads to his Artifact.

Keiji freezes, and his blood runs cold. If he wasn’t in trouble before, there’s no saving himself now. He sends a quick prayer to Suga and Oikawa before stepping around Bokuto, who watches him with a mixture of hurt and confusion that sends an ache through Keiji’s chest. There isn’t time to deal with him or these damn feelings. 

Keiji doesn’t get far, something shoots up his back and the power in his chest expands rapidly. It takes all his attention to quell it he almost misses the movement ahead of him. Kuroo steps out of the hole in the wall, in his hand is a shimmering golden owl. Seeing his Artifact in the hands of another, a mortal no less, is like someone pushing a cold dagger through Keiji’s heart.

“You set me up,” he says turning to Bokuto. “You were trying to distract me.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen. “N-No. No, I swear. I-I’m sorry. He’ll put it back.”

“You distracted me so they could find the room,” Keiji mumbles then turns on Kozume and Kuroo. “How? How did you find it?”

Kuroo steps forward, golden owl still hand: it’s perfect surface now ruined by the fingerprints of a mortal. “Did you even know this existed? What were you going to let it do? Collect dust? Come on, dude! Put this in a museum. You could get millions.”

“Put that down,” Keiji says through his teeth. His hands folded into fists at his side and in them he can feel the first forms of stems. With his Artifact exposed, power flows through his body like a faucet with the pressure turned on high.

“It could go to the Smithsonian or the Louvre.”

Keiji tries to take a steadying breath. He tries to push the power back down but he can’t breathe right. Red dances at the edge of his vision. Power, anger, he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. “Put that down and get out.”

“This thing is probably priceless! Pure gold, semi-precious gemstones, you could have all the wealth you wanted if you just-”

“Put that down!” 

The anger and power are too much for Keiji to hold in any more. They burst forth in tandem, illuminating the room with a sizzling crack of green light. Keiji is engulfed by more than just range. He can feel the vines sprouting from his hangs, pooling around his feet and arms.

He can feel each crackle of raw power as it dances over his skin, and it’s never felt so good.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the tension picks up. I hope you all continue to enjoy! 
> 
> CW: minor violence

Something in the air crackles and pops. The energy that had only been a faint whistle moments ago, now screams like the wind moments before a tornado. Something bright flashes and Koutarou holds up his arm to shield his eyes but isn’t quite fast enough. Multicolored dots dance across his vision. The energy in the air adds new pressure, and his ears pop as he squints through the green sparks.

Koutarou’s eyes go first to his friends behind him. Tetsurou is standing his ground, hunched as if holding himself against wind. The owl figurine is still clutched tightly against his chest. Kenma is the only one no longer standing. He curled on the ground, hands planted firmly over his ears and eyes squeezed closed. Koutarou’s gaze jumps to Akaashi and any questions he has die in his throat.

The  _ thing _ standing between them and the door is not Akaashi. It has Akaashi’s dark hair and Akaashi’s tan skin. It is Akaashi’s height and has Akaashi’s build. But the figure standing in front of them can’t be Akaashi, because whatever it is, it’s not human.

The figure’s eyes blaze green, venomous green, green as the pit viper they ran into days ago. There is no distinction between the iris and the rest of the eye, Koutarou can’t even make out the pupil. It’s only green. More alarming than the dangerous eyes are the vines bulging from the figure’s palms and cascading to the floor in a waterfall of leaves and petals.

Koutarou looks from the figure to the mural. In the pale green light that radiates from the figure, he can just make out the rough outline of a young man, holding out his hands. He doesn’t need to look any closer to remember the flowers flowing freely from the man’s hands, or how Akaashi resembled the man in the painting so closely it was almost magical. 

Now it’s just eerie.

The disappearing and the reappearing. The never eating or drinking. The vanishing at night. The look of exhaustion in the morning, and the energy to keep on even through that exhaustion. Finding them in the first place. All the pieces came together.

Koutarou looks back to the figure. Koutarou looks back to Akaashi.

“A-Akaashi?” He asks, softly, hopefully. He isn’t sure what he wants Akaashi’s reaction to be, but he can’t stay as whatever he is now. “Akaashi, please. We’re sorry.”

“Step aside,” Akaashi says. His voice sounds the same, but there’s authority and power laced into each word.

Koutarou glances back at his friends. Kenma has made it to his feet with what had to be Tetsurou’s help. He’s still shaking, but he doesn’t look scared or even surprised. He clutches Tetsurou’s shit, but it’s to hold Tetsurou back, not to cower and hide behind him. Tetsurou, on the other hand, looks as dumbfounded as Koutarou feels. At least he wasn’t the only one who didn’t see this coming.

Turning back to Akaashi, Koutarou says, “No. Akaashi, listen. We’re sorry. We’ll put the statue back, we’ll do whatever you want, but you need to-”

He’s cut off when the air leaves his lungs, or his squeezed out of his lungs really. He tries to squirm to get a better breath, but he can’t move anything below his shoulders. He looks down. Thing vines wrap around him from toes to shoulder.

“Never, tell a God what to do,” Akaashi’s voice rumbles, and Koutarou’s stomach drops. 

Heart pounding, Koutarou almost loses himself in short, uneven breaths. He forces his eyes closed and concentrates on expanding his chest slowly, and steadily. To his surprise, breathing comes easy. He can’t move, but he isn’t being choked, only held back. The vines themselves are gentle against his skin, soft even. Even has he wiggles they make no move to tighten. 

Akaashi has no intentions of hurting him. Akaashi probably has no intentions of hurting any of them.

Before Koutarou can voice these thoughts, Tetsurou yells, “release him, now.”

Koutarou opens his eyes and finds Tetsurou standing tall, golden owl tucked under his arm and gun in hand. Koutarou hadn’t realized that he had grabbed the damn thing. Kenma still stands by his side, gripping Tetsurou’s shirt.

“Kuro,” Kenma says, eyes darting between Tetsurou and Akaashi, “put down the statute, and let’s go.”

Tetsurou relaxes slightly. He glances at Kenma, mumbles something under his breath, and lowers the gun. Kenma looks confused, but Tetsurou slips from his grasp before anything else can be said. He takes a few steps towards Akaashi, statute extended out.

The vines around Koutarou loosen slightly, but Koutarou is still unable to move. His gaze snaps to Akaashi, and He never looks away. In this form, Akaashi is even more unreadable, but while he remains tense, the vines in his left hand slowly slink back into his palm.

Tetsurou stops not two feet away from Akaashi. They watch each other for a moment, and then Tetsurou lifts the gun, points and shoots.

Koutarou flinches and snaps his eyes shut, the sound shaking him to his core. He ducks his head against the dust and dirt that bullet kicks up and finds himself staring at the vines. For a second, they stare back and then crumble away turning to dust. 

Koutarou rolls his shoulders and flexes his hand, happy to move them again, but it doesn’t last long. Tetsurou is at his side a second later, grabbing his arm. Suddenly, Koutarou is racing down the path between the pillars towards the open cliff-face.

Straining his neck, Koutarou tries to look back as he’s dragged down the path, but he’s moving too fast. He can’t see Akaashi, only the vines that race after them. If the vines are moving, Koutarou figures that Akaashi must still be okay.

To their right, Kenma runs. It’s the first time since volleyball that Koutarou has seen Kenma putting effort into something physical, and with good reason too. Kenma looks terrified, but Koutarou isn’t allowed much time to ponder his friend’s expression. Something wraps around his leg and pulls.

Koutarou tumbles face first towards the stone floor of the temple, but not before yanking his arm free of Tetsu’s grasp. The vines inch their way up Koutarou’s legs, and he lets them. If he could reach Akaashi, if they could just talk…

“Bo!”

Koutarou looks up. Tetsurou stops in the temple’s entrance, arms still wrapped around the golden owl. Even from this distance, even in the dark, the emerald eyes of the owl shimmer a vibrant and unnatural green, the same green that radiates from Akaashi. 

“Tetsu-!” Koutarou isn’t allowed to say anything else, because the vines begin to drag him across the floor. His ribs burn as they rub against the uneven stone, and his hip aches more with each tug. Koutarou barely has time to bring his hands around his head to prevent it from knocking against the floor. He peers through his fingers.

There’s a moment when Tetsurou looks between the statute in his hand and Koutarou. Koutarou latches on to an uneven tile in the ground and clings to it as the vines pull and yank. He hopes that Tetsurou will see him struggling and step back into the temple. If he gets close enough, Koutarou can grab the statute and hand it back to Akaashi, then this entire mess could be over.

“Kenma?” Tetsurou calls as he steps back into the temple. Before Kenma can look up or even slow down, Tetsurou hurls the statute towards him. “Catch!”

Kenma reaches out and grabs that statute before it can hit the ground, keeping it close to his chest. For a beat he just stares at it, and then his face pales. The statute tumbles out of his arms, or maybe it’s tossed, Koutarou can’t tell. Kenma clutches his hands to his chest, breathing heavily.

Tetsurou stops halfway to Koutarou, eyes wide. “Kenma?”

Kenma scrambles away from the statute as if afraid it will jump up and attack him.

“Are you okay?”

Koutarou lifts himself up, suddenly aware of the fact that he can control his legs once more. He pushes himself up, sides and hips aching. Tetsurou runs to Kenma and couches beside him. Kenma remains curled, arms cradled against himself, and eyes wide, never leaving the statute. There’s movement from further inside the temple and Koutarou’s eyes snap there.

Akaashi moves towards them at a steady pace. The vines have returned to his side. Flowers and leaves trail him for a few steps, then turn to dust when he is too far away. Koutarou blinks, then blinks again, but Akaashi is just as he was: tall and lean, regal and beautiful, and glowing green. The energy in the air sharpens and the pressure is back, pushing against Koutarou at all angles.

“Kenma, we need to go,” Tetsurou says from the other side of the walkway.

“Leave the statute,” Kenma replies, eyes never leaving Tetsurou.

“If we go now we can-”

“Leave the fucking statute.”

Tetsurou frowns, but stands up and holds out his hand. When he makes no move to grab the owl statute, Kenma allows himself to be pulled to his feet. He’s still shaking as he steadies himself against Tetsurou, and when he arms fall to his side, Koutarou catches a glimpse of blistering red skin.

Akaashi stops some ways away, the vine slowly retracting back into his palms. There’s no blood, but Koutarou can’t stare at them too long or else he thinks that he might faint. The faint glow around Akaashi is still enough to illuminate most of the temple, which allows Koutarou to see Akaashi’s stony expression.

Taking a breath, Koutarou pushes himself to his feet and takes a step towards Akaashi. “Akaashi, I… uh… just want to say-”

“Leave,” Akaashi says, eyes never leaving that statute.

Koutarou opens his mouth, but when Akaashi never looks his way it falls closed. Chest constricting, all Koutarou can do is nod. He knows he should apologize again. He wants to beg for forgiveness. And he has so many questions to ask, but they all die on his tongue. Looking Akaashi over one last time, Koutarou turns around and starts towards the entrance of the temple.

He’s almost there when he hears the bang of another gun. The air ripples with energy, and behind him there’s a quiet gasp. Before Koutarou can turn around, he’s pushed out of the temple.

“Let’s go!” Tetsurou says into his ear.

“W-wait what just-?”

“Just keep moving!” Tetsurou cuts him off, nudging Koutarou along with his shoulder.

It’s then Koutarou notices the gun, clutched in Tetsurou’s hand, and the owl tucked under his arm. In Tetsurou’s other hand is Kenma’s wrist, the blonde is being dragged along like a sack of potatoes.

Before he’s pushed along any more, Koutarou glances over his shoulder. What had once been illuminated by Akaashi’s green aura is now dark. He can’t see much in the shadows. The only thing Koutarou can make out is a figure curled on the floor. Right when it appears that the figure looks up, Koutarou is yanked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Kuro isn't "bad" or anything, he's just protecting his friends... or trying to... even if it's not the best way.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short update, but it was one of my favorites to write. I hope you all enjoy, and I'm so sorry. 
> 
> CW: mentions of blood, pain, and death

They’re gone before the dust even clears. Keiji reaches forward, urging the vines to stretch out and chase the shapes that move and twist in the darkness ahead of him. But the vines wither and fall from his palms. They twist around themselves then crumble into black ash.

The tingle in his chest dies, and the power that crackled over his skin moments before evaporates like sweat off of his arms. His brain tumbles over itself grasping at whatever wisps of power are left. It’s like it was all those centuries ago, except the faint hum of magic doesn’t linger. It sings sharp and out of tune, more a wail than a song, and then flickers out completely, leaving Keiji’s chest hollow and empty.

_ Is this what being mortal feels like? _

The thought pierces through all others, ricocheting around his mind like another bullet. Keiji pushes himself off the ground – when had he fallen and how long had he been there? – and forces himself to sit up. As he readies himself to stand his chest constricts and hot pain radiates from his right shoulder. Keiji crumples again, breath ragged. The pain is piercing, like nothing he’s ever felt. It burns from the inside out but feels like no fire Keiji has experienced before.

Pulling his hand away from his chest his eyes snap to his palm. He almost doesn’t recognize his own hand. He can’t make out the color in the darkness, but he knows that it is blood, thick and warm. It’s sticky and smooth to the touch as it drips across his palm and spills over the sides of his hand. His gaze drops to the floor. The stone is soaked in dark liquid.

His stomach drops. Gods do not bleed.

His hand snaps back to his shoulder as another burst of pain racks his body. Curling in on himself, he forces his breathing to be even, but between the fiery pain and the dull, empty ache of his chest he can barely think.

Dark spots dance in the corner of his vision, blacker than the night around him.

He reaches for his neck and stops. There’s nothing there, no smooth glass or tough rope. The necklace is gone. He left it behind. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  _ This _ wasn’t supposed to happen. But it has, and now he’s alone without any means to call for help or say goodbye. He’s dying, again, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Whatever air was in his lungs is pushed out. His throat swallows whatever moans or cries he wants to release, and the temple becomes silent. The only sound is his own heartbeat, faint even to his own ears.

Rolling over, Keiji stares up at the cracked ceiling. Without the green glow of his aura, he can barely tell one stone from the other. He forces himself to take one breath, and then another. The blood continues to pool around his hand and pour through his fingers. He tries to apply more pressure but his arm is too weak to do so. Instead, he lies there, hand limp over the bullet wound, vision spotting with dark shapes. 

He deserves this, after everything he’s done. After all the broken promises and the lies and the failure to watch three mortals, he deserves this. Still, he has the audacity to wish it didn’t hurt so much, to wish the burning would end. He wants something, anything to distract him from the pain. He wants stars.

The stars. He longs to see the stars or golden eyes that shine like them.

 

He blinks.  _ Leaves hang above him, flickering in the wind. Just between them, he can make out the night sky. _

He blinks. The temple is dark and cold and quiet. Has it always been this quiet? He can’t remember not hearing laughter or the soft tones of voices.

He blinks.  _ The wind, he can feel it, fanning over his face, warm, and calm. On it, he can just make out… _

He blinks or tries to, but he can’t open his eyes. Is that a sound? A voice? Footsteps? He doesn’t know. He can’t see anything.

_ He’s running, fast and quick through the jungle. He bounds over a log, zips around a fern, and darts through long grass. His heart pounds in his chest, loud and warm. It urges him forward. He’s going to be late! To what? He can’t recall. He takes a breath and pushes forward through the jungle.  _

_ The trees loom above him, tall in a way they once were but no longer are. He’s small enough that the canopy looks unreachable overhead. He’s small enough to duck under ferns and slip between tree trunks that are nearly touching. The earth is moist under the soles of his feet, and the air is still. The air is missing something, but he doesn’t know what.  _ He’s _ missing something too, but he can’t remember what it is. _

_ Suddenly, the jungle breaks, revealing a large tree that towers over all others. A kapok tree. He’s heard the village healer speak of them. Their seeds produce soft fiber. If one can reach them, that is. Never has he imagined that they would be this large. At its base stands a man, skin dark from days in the sun, much like his own. The man grips a stick. At its end, there is an arrowhead, carved from the strongest rock. Its tip is already stained red. _

_ He falls still at the sight of man, cold fear tightening around his lungs stealing away his breath. He can’t move. He can’t race forward or turn and flee. All he can do is stare. _

_ Above the man, draped over the lowest branch of the kapok tree, is the Jaguar Queen, fur sleek and golden, eyes a vibrant but deadly green. She looks away from the man and stares straight at him. Her eyes glowing with cold familiarity.  _

_ When she speaks, her voice is gentle with sharp edges, “I see that you have returned, Little Cub.” _

 

_ When he blinks again, he is lying on his back, staring at the leaves of the kapok tree high above him. If he looks at his chest he knows what he will find. An arrow, right through his heart. It doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel anything. He can’t think either. There's nothing left for him but sleep and peace. _

“Keiji.”

_ The name is faint and almost unfamiliar.  _

“Keiji, get up!”

_ His mind sinks further inside itself. He doesn’t need to get up. He needs sleep _ . 

“Keiji,  _ please _ .”

_ That voice, he knows that voice.  _

_ Why does he know that voice? _

_ His eyes snap open. _

“Keiji,  _ we need to talk _ .”

_ He sits up slowly, prods his shoulder, then pulls his hand away. This time it isn’t covered in blood. _

“Keiji!”

_ He twists and looks behind him. The gaze he meets isn't that of the young girl he is used to seeing in his dreams, but a young man, gray hair down, eyes bright as the stars that twinkle in the sky above. Keiji knows this man. He just can’t think of his name. Keiji’s chest aches and his stomach bubbles at the sight of this man, whoever he is. When the man smiles, Keiji is left breathless. He reaches forward. _

_ The man reaches too. _ “Keiji.”

 

“Keiji … hear us?”

Keiji doesn’t open his eyes, but his body still moves. He’s grasping for something, but all he finds is a soaked shirt below his palm. He’s lying against stone, he thinks, and around him is another person or maybe there are two. He’s not sure, but he hears something, or at least he thinks he does. All the sounds are muffled as if by water.

“He’s- ...!”

“Keiji can ... us? Move agai- ...”

Move. He needs to move. He shifts slightly, fingers still clutching at his damp shirt. A warm hand encompasses his own and another presses down against his shoulder. Pain bursts through him like a firecracker, making his hard to breathe. Hard to move. Hard to think.

“... eyes. Please Keiji, open- ...”

Slowly, Keiji forces one eye open, and then the other. The darkness and the dark spots of his vision blend together. He can’t see anything. Not really. He isn’t even sure which way up or down is, or if there’s an up or down. The hand pushes against his shoulder, and for a second the dark spots that twirl towards the center of his vision flash with color.

“He’s- ... Keiji, you’re- ... Everything ... okay.”

There’s movement above him, or maybe that’s just the shadows. Someone continues to press down against his shoulder. It hurts. It hurts so much. His eyes shut once again. From somewhere around him a deep groan echoes. It’s only when his throat aches that he realizes the sound must have come from himself.

“I got you,” the voice continues, but the more it speaks, the more familiar it is. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck, it’s gone!” Another voice yells so loud it pierces Keiji’s skull and bounces around his head. “Koushi, you stay with him. I’ll go- ...”

Suga, yes, that’s who the first voice belongs to. The second voice must be Oikawa. It can only be Oikawa.

“Tooru, you can’t- ... You know that.”

“ _ They _ don’t know that.” The response is sharp and bitter. “Make sure to call- ... be back.”

Footsteps echo and then are gone. He must have left. Keiji tries to turn his head and open his eyes again, to see Suga and make sure he’s really there. He manages to open his eyes again, but when he shifts, even slightly, his vision flares, filling with colorful spots. The burning pain returns, but this time it stems from every cell in his body, not just his shoulder.

“Stay still, you can’t- ...” Suga’s voice his soft, at least what Keiji can make out is. “I’m going to call- … soon and you’ll- … will be back- ... ”

The words swim together. Suga continues to talk. When Keiji’s eyes flutter open again, he can see his mouth moving just barely, but the words sound more like individual syllables that run together like watercolors. He’s going to call… call who? Is he already talking to  _ them _ ? Do they know? If they find Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kenma it’s all over for all of them.

“No,” Keiji croaks. “Please no.”

“Keiji, don’t- ... You- ... rest.”

“Don’t call The Council!”

A hand remains on his chest pushing against his shoulder - it hurts so much he doesn’t even notice it anymore - but another runs through his hair. Something about the touch is grounding. He normally wouldn’t allow it, but now it is welcome.

“I’m not calling The Council. It’s okay.”

“They can’t know.”

“Shhhh,” the hand runs through his hair again. “Don’t worry- ... Just stay- ...”

He doesn’t even move this time and his vision tilts and sways again. He groans and snaps his eyes shut. Between the pain and the spinning, it’s all too much.

“Keiji? Stay- ... Keiji.”

The wind is back, warm and refreshing. It’s an offer. It’s a guide. Somewhere in his gut, he feels like he’s felt this before. He thinks he has experienced this before. No, he knows that he has. 

“Don’t close- ... Don’t go.”

Did it hurt this much before? Yes. Yes, it had. He remembers now. It had hurt so much, and all he had been able to do was watch the stars above and wait for it to be over. He’d been alone then, but he isn’t now. 

He likes that. 

He likes not being alone.

“Keiji! Damn- ... No- … Keiji please.”

The wind. It had taken him far away from the pain once before. Perhaps it could do so again? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the tag says: no one dies. I promise.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to an end with this fic, three more chapter and an epilogue are left! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and, like I promised, no death. 
> 
> CW: death mentions, injury/blood, mentions of violence

After a few minutes of racing down the mountain path, Koutarou has enough awareness to yank on Tetsurou’s sleeve. Together they stumble to a stop. Koutarou presses himself against the rocky cliff face and eventually ends up on the ground. Tetsurou sinks beside him, breathing heavily. Kenma rips himself away from Tetsurou and sits across from them. For a few moments, they do nothing but struggle to catch their breath. Koutarou uses the moment of stillness to put together the pieces of what happened in the temple.

Akaashi’s power. Akaashi’s look of betrayal. The gun. The vines. Kenma’s sudden fear. It all floods back to Koutarou in bits and pieces. He can’t concentrate too much on one thought before another thought takes its place. His eyes fall on the golden owl now perched on Tetsurou’s lap, and then jump to the gun now lying in the dirt.

An echo of its bang rings inside his head.

“You shot him,” Koutarou mumbles.

Tetsurou blinks as if emerging from his own thoughts. “What?”

“Y-you shot Akaashi,” Koutarou breathes, “W-why would you… what if he’s not okay?!”

Before Koutarou can jump back up on his feet, Tetsurou grabs his wrist and pulls him back down into the dirt. “He’s fine,” Tetsurou says, “he’s a God for fucks sake.”

“You still shot him!”

“He’s immortal. Besides, he was trying to kill us.”

“No,” Koutarou snaps. “No, he wasn’t. He was trying…” Koutarou eyes dart back to the golden owl. It shimmers in the moonlight, but the emeralds in the place of its eyes no longer glow. They no longer look like Akaashi’s eyes, but very inanimate stones. Without Akaashi’s green aura, the owl seems bland and lifeless.

“We need to return the statute,” Koutarou says.

“Like hell we do!” Tetsurou snaps. “We worked our asses off to get this thing we aren’t going to give it back to a God that lied to us, used us, and then tried to kill us.”

“Tetsu-”

“No, we worked too fucking hard to just-”

“Can both of you stop yelling for five seconds!” Kenma’s voice is strained.

Koutarou’s attention snaps to him and he really looked at the other man for the first time since they left the temple. Kenma is pale, more so than usual, and sticky. His hair is damp and clings to his forehead and cheeks. His shirt looks soaked, and the more Koutarou watches him the more he notices Kenma’s shaking. He hasn’t gotten better since the temple, if anything he's worse.

Tetsurou drops Koutarou’s hand and begins to crawl forward. “Kenma?”

“Stay away,” Kenma hisses, slinking back and putting more space between himself and Tetsurou. “I’m not getting near that thing..”

Tetsurou looked from the statute, still tucked under his arm and back to Kenma. “What’s going on?”

“I.. I don’t know,” Kenma admitted, “But I… I can’t stand that statute. It  _ hurt _ , Kuro, holding it  _ burned _ . And just being around it…” Kenma’s breathes come out shaky and shallow.

“You won’t have to be around it much longer,” Tetsurou says, and his voice is quieter and lighter than it has been in days. “We’ll get off this mountain, get out of this jungle, then head home. We’ll sell this damn statute, and you’ll never have to see it again.”

“Sell it?” Koutarou gasps. He doesn’t know why, but the very thought of selling it makes him feel sick. Seeing it outside of the temple was bad enough, but imagining it in a museum, or worse, in someone’s home, feels wrong. “I… we can’t… no. We’re not selling it.”

“Then what do you want us to do?” Tetsurou asks. “Keep it?”

“N-no… we need to give it back to Akaashi.”

“We aren't giving this back to a God who tried to kill us. I don’t care what you say,” Tetsurou snaps, “Think of the money and the fame. We wouldn’t have to worry about paying for school, and we could do whatever we wanted! I could become a journalist and still buy my parents a new house. Kenma could actually go into game design instead of becoming some coder! Bo, you could become a photographer. With the pictures, you have right now  _ Nat Geo _ ,  _ Scientific America _ , or  _ BBC Wildlife _ would love to have you. Didn’t you say you wanted one last adventure? Well, this is it, but with this statute, it doesn’t have to be the last one.”

Koutarou’s heart clenches. He had been wondering where his best friend had gone. He was worried that Tetsurou had lost himself, but that idealistic young man is still there. Koutarou looks between his friends and the path behind them. The temple is high above them now. He had expected Akaashi to appear behind them at any moment, but perhaps he had decided that the chase wasn’t worth it. 

Koutarou’s heart clenches. He hadn’t even been able to apologize, he had just turned around and walked out. Akaashi’s face hardened by power had managed to hide most emotion, but Koutarou had been sure he’d seen sadness.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and Koutarou turns to find Tetsurou there, a small smile play across his lips. “You can make it up to him. Spread word about this jungle, start conserving it and protecting it before people even get here. He’ll be thankful, I’m sure.”

Koutarou swallowed, looking for the words to say. Before he’s allowed to find them a groan echoes behind them. They turn around quickly. Kenma is curled in a ball, hands over his ears as though trying to block out a noise.

“Kenma?” Tetsurou moves forward then freezes, owl statue still in hand.

Koutarou couches beside Kenma instead and puts a hand on his back, but he’s unsure of what to do. Kenma’s never been one to respond to touch, only to Tetsurou. “K-kenma? Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly.

Kenma groans again.

Koutarou swallows. “Uh… what do you want us to do?”

“C-can we just... leave,” Kenma mumbles into the ground.

Koutarou looks to Tetsurou, who is already standing statute in hand and gun stowed awkwardly in his pocket. “Y-yup. Yup, we are leaving. Let’s go!”

He helps Kenma up, but the other brushes him off after a few steps and chooses to walk alone. He keeps his distance from Tetsurou. He still looks pale and sickly. Koutarou knows he’s still drenched in sweat. Going back up the mountain isn’t even an option at this point; they need to get Kenma off it, before whatever this is gets worse.

The walk down proves to be slow and challenging, especially in the dark. Koutarou is exhausted, it hadn’t hit him until they stopped moving, but with the adrenaline gone, every step is heavy and slow. His body aches, but he continues to push forward because he can’t do much else.

The trees slowly rise up on either side of them, and they are about to pass through the canopy and start heading back towards the heart of the jungle when Tetsurou stops and Koutarou almost bumps into him. Behind him, Kenma stumbles to a stop as well. Before he can ask what’s going on, he peers around Tetsurou and freezes.

There, in the middle of the path, is single. No… there are two snakes. No, there’s a pile of snakes. They move together in a mass of bodies and heads. It’s still dark, so their colors are muted, but he doesn’t need their colors. Their arrow-shaped heads tell enough. 

“Vipers…” Koutarou mumbles. “But why are they out in the middle of the night?” Without heat, snakes should be… Koutarou’s eyes dart to the statute. He hadn’t had a chance to touch it, but it had burned Kenma, so perhaps…

Tetsurou groans. “Snakes!” He exclaims. “Why’d it have to snakes?”

There isn’t time to answer this question, however, because something prickles at the back of Koutarou’s neck. Tetsurou must feel it too because they exchange a worried glance and then turn around.

Standing on a rock above them, farther up the path is a figure of a… person? The figure is tall and lean. Koutarou can’t make out much of them in the darkness, but their eyes radiate a brilliant and cold brown.

Kenma’s eyes dart between the figure and the owl statue in Tetsurou’s hand as if he can’t decide who he would rather stay away from. When he takes a step closer to Tetsurou, Koutarou’s stomach drops.

“Who are you?” Tetsurou asks, clutching the statute tighter.

“That’s a rather forward question,” the figure laughs and hops off the rock in a smooth motion. “I should be the one asking you that.”

They walk with elegance and grace, much like Akaashi, but each step is deliberate and full of power. The air around Koutarou crackles and Kenma flinches. “Try not to piss this one off,” Kenma says softly, under his breath, “he’s more powerful than Akaashi.”

Koutarou tilts his head. “More powerful…?”

And Tetsurou’s eyes widen. “ _ Another _ one?”

“What are you all whispering about?” The figure asks, voice light and airy. “I hope you realize how rude it is to talk about someone when they're right in front of you.”

“What do you want?” Tetsurou asks.

The person, the God, laughs. “You know what I want.”

Tetsurou clutches the statue closer to his chest. “And if we don’t give it to you?”

“Your friend could probably tell you.” Kenma shrinks under the sharp gaze of the God. “Now return the Artifact. It’s not yours. Surely you know that by now. The jungle knows it too.” The God’s eyes drift over Koutarou’s shoulder to the pile of snakes behind them. “Give it up. You’ve already injured one God, I can’t allow you to do any more damage.”

“Injured a God?” Koutarou breathed.

The God snorts and tosses his head back to appear as though he is looking down on them. “You shot Keiji, don’t try to dance around that fact.”

Tetsurou raises an eyebrow. “Keiji?”

“Akaashi,” Kenma mumbles. “We shot Akaashi.”

Koutarou’s stomach drops and his chest constrict. “A-Akaashi is… hurt?”

“He’s a God!” Tetsurou exclaims, “I-It’s not like a bullet will kill him. Right?”

“We all have our weaknesses,” the God replies coolly. Koutarou doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger on the statue in Tetsurou’s hand.

“We hurt Akaashi… we hurt  _ Keiji _ .” Upon muttering what must be Akaashi’s given name, the owl’s eyes glow, dimly and subtlety, but for a moment Koutarou is convinced they have regained some life.

He isn’t sure what prompts him to look over his shoulders at the pathway and the snakes behind them, but he does. It’s not the same as the God’s gaze, it’s not like he feels anything behind him, he just has the urge to look. At first, there is nothing, just darkness and trees. But before he looks away green eyes pierce through the shadows, so similar to Akaashi’s own, Koutarou wonders for a moment if Akaashi will appear out of the darkness and save them from this stranger.

What steps out of the shadows is not Akaashi, but a Jaguar. The cat’s fur is golden and perfectly spotted, and its fangs shine almost as brightly as its eyes. It watches Koutarou with an eerily human expression. It  _ knows _ . Koutarou glances around, but not even the God seems to notice the cat. The Jaguar remains, never moving closer or farther away. Its eyes never leave Koutarou, as if daring him to turn his back.

He knows what he has to do.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Koutarou turns slowly. The God continues to speak, but Koutarou doesn’t listen. He merely reaches to the side and snatches the statute from Tetsurou’s unsuspecting hands. Tetsurou must not have been expecting anyone to make a move because the statute comes easily. Before Tetsurou can even say anything, Koutarou is off, bounding past the God and up the mountainside.

The path up the mountain is steeper than he remembers it being just the day before – perhaps it is because he’s rushing, perhaps it is because he’s exhausted. Even when he slips or falls, all Koutarou can do is push himself back on his feet and start up the mountain again. It felt like they hadn’t gone too far down the path, but the path continues with no end in sight.

When Koutarou reaches the section of the trail that plateaus before the temple, he allows himself a moment to catch his breath. The air is silent and still. Not the calm stillness that the jungle occasionally falls into, but a dead stillness where something alive should have been. The energy buzzing through the air is gone as if it had never been there to start. Thinking about it, it almost seems like a dream or a shared illusion.

Koutarou looks at the statute in his hands. The gold is cold under his hands, and the jewels no longer seem to sparkle as they had in the temple, but they aren’t as dead as they had been on the way down. There’s something there. If Koutarou had to give an emotion to the statute he would have to say sad or, better yet, deserted. The longer he stares at the statute the worse feels. The God at the bottom of the mountain was right. They weren’t supposed to have this; the thought is a heavy feeling in his gut.

Turning back to the cliff-face Koutarou stares at the entrance of the temple. What if Akaashi is angry with him? He has every right to be, but Koutarou isn’t sure what to expect from Akaashi’s anger. He held so much of himself back in the last two weeks, Koutarou isn’t sure what his anger will look like. It could either be cold and contained or fiery and explosive. Koutarou isn’t sure which he’d rather face. 

Worse, what if Akaashi isn’t even there? 

Then he’ll wait until he comes back.

After taking another steadying breath, Koutarou marches forward and into the temple. The air inside the temple has a faint buzz to it, a ghost of the energy that had been there not an hour earlier. In his hand, the statute warms. 

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. Without a glowing aura, the shadows and air blend together. Koutarou almost misses the figures that are huddled together on the floor between the pillars.

A soft voice, gentle as a spring breeze, echoes through the temple. The words being mumbled aren’t any language Koutarou has ever heard before, but the sounds help settle the pounding of his heart and allow him to take another step into the temple. The chanting cuts off and Koutarou freezes. Ahead of him, someone sits up. Light hair and a soft face are all Koutarou can make out in the darkness, but he can tell that they’re not Akaashi.

“Tooru?” The voice calls out. “Thank The Council. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t-” The figure stops and lets out a soft gasp. “You’re not Tooru.”

“I…” Koutarou looks around frantically. “Who?”

The figure shifts but never stands. Something lies across their lap, Koutarou can’t tell what, but they clutch it closer when Koutarou takes another step towards them. “What are you doing here?” The voice is no longer soft, but sharp and cold like a winter wind. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Koutarou forced himself to take another step forward and holds out the statute like a shield. It’s warm once again, not hot enough to burn, but has enough heat to feel alive. He’s convinced the gemstone eyes are glowing too, but he doesn’t take the risk of looking away and checking. “I have something I need to give back to Akaashi. I-is he here?”

As Koutarou takes another step towards the seated figure, his eyes drop to what is in their lap. It’s not a what, but a who. A person is cradled in the figure’s arm, resting on their knees. It’s not any person, it’s Akaashi. Koutarou freezes.

Akaashi’s eyes are closed, his face relaxed but skin ashy and clammy. He looks like he’s running a fever and Koutarou isn’t even close to him. What catches Koutarou off guard the most is the dark liquid under Akaashi and around the other person’s knees. It matches the dark stain around Akaashi’s right shoulder. 

A faint bang echoes in Koutarou’s memories, and his stomach drops.

“W-we actually shot him,” Koutarou mumbles.

The other person shoots him a sharp glare. “What did you think happened?”

“I-I…” Koutarou looks for the words but all he can see is the unmoving figure lying in a pool of his own blood. “Is he… I m-mean could he… h-how is-”

“He’ll live,” the figure continues. “He’ll live  _ now _ . You brought the Artifact, right?”

Koutarou tilts his head – the God they encountered at the base of the mountain had called it the same thing and Koutarou wonders if the person by Akaashi’s side is another God. With a quick nod, he holds out the statute. “I have this.”

“Good. Leave it here and go.”

The other God gestures to some spot on the floor. Koutarou walks there obediently and sets down the owl statute carefully. As pulls away from the statute, it begins to warm up, which would explain Kenma’s burns, but for the fact that it remains painless to touch. Once the statute is safe on the ground and faintly glowing once more, Koutarou rises and takes a step back.

The God watches him with an unreadable expression. “You can leave.”

Koutarou swallows and says, “No, I can’t. I’m waiting for Akaashi.”

“You’ve done enough as is.”

“I need to apologize,” Koutarou explains. “I-it was all my fault. Everything was my fault!”

“I’m glad you admit that, but-” the God’s words fall short as Akaashi mumbles something and shifts. When he moves he must move or bump his shoulder because the mumbling turns into a deep groan that strikes Koutarou all the way to his core.

“Akaashi?” He asks, softly.

His eyes drift from the two gods to the statute. The emerald eyes flicker and then come to life, cutting through the shadows with radiant, green light. A moment later, Akaashi grumbles and groans again. His eyes flicker open. The knot in Koutarou’s stomach unties itself, and his chest flutters.

Akaashi blinks, once, twice, but never looks at Koutarou or the other God. For a moment, all he does it stare at the ceiling. It’s like he’s there, but not present. 

“Akaashi?” Koutarou calls again, and, suddenly, eyes are on him, bright and green. There’s a moment, a brief second, where Koutarou watches Akaashi take him in and recognize him. In the moment, Akaashi looks terrified.

Akaashi blinks again, his stony expression returning as though it had never left. He sits up, or tries to, but his hand goes to his shoulder, and two more hands guide him back down, or at least try to.

“You shouldn’t sit up,” the other God says.

Akaashi brushes off the other God’s hands and sits up fully. “Suga, I’m fine.”

“Just because you aren’t going to die, doesn’t mean you’re fine!”

Akaashi sends Suga quick glare then turns to look on Koutarou. He would be intimidating if it weren’t for the wound at his shoulder, which was still bleeding through his fingers. If Akaashi noticed, he didn’t let it show and Koutarou can’t bring himself to say anything about the wound. He can barely look at it. There’s so much blood, and the green light makes it even easier to see.

“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asks.

The words don’t come and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Koutarou glances around for a moment before picking the statue back up and holding it out to Akaashi. “I wanted to… no, I  _ had _ to give this back to you,” Koutarou says. “I’m sorry that we took it, we shouldn’t have. That was all my fault. You told me not to take any pictures, but I did. I couldn’t help it. You’re just so… so  _ beautiful _ Akaashi! But I still shouldn’t have done it. Tetsu and Kenma saw it, and we came here and we… we did this to you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we lied to you, and I’m sorry we hurt you. I’m sorry  _ I _ hurt you. B-believe me I didn’t want to. I never meant to hurt you but I still did. I’m sorry… Akaashi. I-I-”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi said, and the glare was gone. There was something in his voice, the tiniest shake. “Bokuto, I am okay. It’s not… are you crying?”

Koutarou sniffles and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry. I just… I was scared, Akaashi. I was scared that you were hurt, and it was my fault, and-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Akaashi says gently. There’s a moment of silence, where Bokuto tries to wipe the tears from his eyes, and Akaashi looks anywhere but at him. But after that moment, Akaashi holds out his hands. “Come here.”

Koutarou takes a step towards him, and Suga grumbles, moving out from under Akaashi, leaving him on the floor. Suga takes a step back. He’s still frowning, but there’s a lightness in his eyes, that Koutarou would try and place, but he’s too absorbed in Akaashi. In Akaashi’s eyes, light green and as alive as the jungle. In Akaashi’s smile, a hint, barely there but blinding as ever, and in Akaashi’s hands trembling ever so slightly as they reach out towards him.

Koutarou stops within reach and lets Akaashi guides him so that they are sitting across from one another, the statue off to the side and seemingly forgotten for the time being. Akaashi doesn’t remove his hands when Koutarou is seated. They’re sticky and red with blood, but Koutarou holds onto them loosely. They shake against his grip but don’t pull away. Akaashi laces their fingers together and looks Koutarou in the eyes. Koutarou holds his gaze so that he doesn’t look at the gaping wound in Akaashi’s right shoulder.

“Should you get that-”

“I’m fine,” Akaashi insists. “It will take a while, but it’s going to heal on its own. That’s not what matters right now.”

“But you’re hurt!” Bokuto says, eyes dropping to the wound. His head spins and his gaze snaps back to Akaashi. “And I did this, so-”

“No. You did nothing to cause this,” Akaashi says. “I was the one who didn’t trust you and went as far as to ask you to lie to your friends. I tried to use you for the power you gave me. None of that was fair for me to do. If we had talked about this or if I had given any of this real thought, it wouldn’t have come to this.” 

“W-we were the ones who shot you!” Koutarou replies, giving Akaashi’s hands a little squeeze. He loves how soft they are and adores the feeling of skin against skin. He could sit here forever and never tire of it.

Akaashi shakes his head. “We can… discuss that later, but it’s fine. I’m fine, so please don’t cry. I’m a God, it’ll take more than a bullet to end me.”

Off to the side, Suga coughs and sends Akaashi a sharp glare that he ignores.

“I was just scared. I was scared because you were hurt,” Koutarou explains. Akaashi’s eyes as the question that his tongue doesn’t and Koutarou takes in a shaky breath. “I was scared because… because I-I really l-”

The sounds of footsteps echo from the front of the temple. Akaashi yanks his hands away and Koutarou stumbles back. Three figures stand in the entrance, silhouetted against the silvery light from the moon.

“We’re back~” The God that they met on the mountain says; he must be Tooru. “I see that the Artifact has been returned.”

“It has,” Akaashi says.

“And Yachi…?”

“On her way,” Suga says. “She said she’d be here-”

New electricity buzzes in the air. It ripples like a pebble that has been tossed into an otherwise pond. The new energy lasts only for a second before mixing with the lingering buzz in the air that has only increased since Koutarou entered the temple.

Suga’s eyes light up. “There she is!” 

He turns around, and Koutarou looks over Akaashi’s head. Three new figures stand in the center of the temple. One second they hadn’t been there, the next they had. It was like the materialized from thin air. Koutarou’s head hurts as his tries to make sense of what he just witnessed.

“Yachi! We’re over… oh?” Suga’s wave stops short and his hand falls to his chest. A small but puzzled smile pulls at his lips, but Koutarou doesn’t miss the way his shoulders tense ever so slightly. “Daichi? Hajime? What are you two doing here?”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all have had a good week, and enjoy the update! 
> 
> CW: injury/blood mention, death mention

In a matter of minutes, his temple went from being a shelter of two to housing five Gods (not including himself), and three mortals (one of whom shot him, but that is a problem to be handled at a different time). The sharp crackle of power has returned to the air, but with the other Gods in the room, the feeling is no longer comforting but overwhelming. Keiji finds himself pushing his power down as deep as it will go, until the hum vibrates deep in his bones, leaving his skin dry and clear. In the corner of his eye, he can see Suga’s eyes dart from him to the three figures walking towards them.

Their faces don’t register, the only thing Keiji’s aware of are the three mortals, huddling somewhere behind him. He tries to stand as the three Gods near, but his legs won’t listen to him and his head spins. Between blood loss and power fluctuation, his body doesn’t know what to do with itself. Thankfully, Suga is at his side in a second, steadying him and guiding him back into a seated position before kneeling beside him.

“Please, take it easy,” Suga says to him, ignoring the other three Gods who have stopped a few feet away.

A moment later, Oikawa comes to stand just behind them. Keiji doesn’t look at him, but he can feel Oikawa’s intense presence and his light touch. “Lady Yachi, it is lovely to see you again. Same to you Lord Daichi. And Hajime? You are looking  _ absolutely _ dashing.”

Leave it to Oikawa to find the worst times to flatter and flirt. If Keiji wasn’t worried about the pain, he might twist and shoot him a glare. Instead, Keiji keeps one hand firm on his shoulder - as if to continue to staunch the blood flow - and dips his head. “Thank you for coming, Hitoka,” Keiji says softly. “I am sorry to have called you down here. As you can see, I’m okay.”

Suga smacks the back of his head, and Hitoka gives a small squeak of surprise. “Oh, it’s… uh… o-okay. I’m sorry you were injured.”

Keiji shakes his head and maintains his calmest expression. “It’s nothing.” It’s hard to ignore the Gods standing just beyond her. Hard not to look at them and wonder – fear – what they are here to do.

Hikota is the only one who moves towards him, Sawamura and Iwaizumi remain in the shadows, almost as if they believe Keiji has yet to notice them. But five Gods in one temple is hard to miss and even harder to ignore for extended periods of time.

The Goddess stops in front of him and kneels, her hand coming out to prod and poke at the hole in his chest. He might not be at risk of dying, not anymore, but it still burns and aches in a way only a bullet wound can. He doesn’t push her away, only bites this inside of his lip and struggles to keep his expression neutral. 

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” she says, looking from his shirt to the temple floor. Her hand hovers over the wound. “And a lot of…” Her voice shakes and she yanks her hand back.

Green energy crackles across his skin for a second, a small message to Hitoka that his abilities might have drained once, but they have returned and are stronger than they have been in quite some time. He pushes the energy away and gives her a nod. “I know, but I’m-”

Her hand lands on his shoulder, and Suga pushes him back down into a seated position. “Fine, we know,” Suga huffs.

“You’ll still need to be treated, and we can’t do that here,” Hitoka says softly.

“Very well,” Keiji says. “Thank you again.”

Only when she has mumbled her own response does Keiji’s gaze drifts to the two gods still standing in the shadows. On any other day, he might be more relaxed and maybe, given the right circumstances, a little grateful to see them. After all, Sawamura and Iwaizumi were good, reliable Gods. But something about their quiet presence rattles Keiji to his bones.

“May I help you two?” He asks, calmly, sitting up a little straighter. He may have an open wound and be kneeling in a pool of his own blood, but he is by no means going to be looked at as weak. Not in front of all of them. Not in front of Bokuto, whose eyes he can feel, resting on the back of his head.

Suga’s hand stays on his arm, squeezing it ever so slightly. A wordless reminder that, despite the Gods they are standing across from, he is behind Keiji, and so is Oikawa.

“We are here on behalf of The Council,” Sawamura says, taking a step forward, Iwaizumi at his side.

Keiji’s stomach drops, and his skin runs cold. This is not unexpected. He had assumed The Council would call sooner or later, especially after the skipping-dinner-stunt Keiji had pulled. He had just been counting on the fact that the calling would be later as opposed to sooner. The Council is never on top of these things, unless, of course, you don’t want them to be.

“What do they want from me?” Keiji asks. He thinks he does a good job keeping his voice distant and steady, but there must be something in his tone because Suga’s hand rubs circles into his arm that do nothing to slow his pounding heart.

Sawamura and Iwaizumi exchange a silent glance, their professional expression shifting and falling into looks of reluctance. It tells more than anything else they could say. The Council knows. Keiji doesn’t understand how, or why, or when, but they know. The game is up. Two weeks had been pushing it anyway. They would have found out about Keiji’s visits eventually, but to be summoned by them, means that they must know about the temple.

Had he been alone, he would have given himself up to The Council readily. But with three mortals standing behind him, with Bokuto standing behind him, every fiber in his body tells him to stand up and fight. Sawamura and Iwaizumi are powerless here. If he could buy time for Bokuto and the others to escape… But it’s no use. Keiji knows that. To attack another God unprovoked is a death sentence. Besides, Sawamura and Iwaizumi have nothing to do with The Council, aside from being given the unfortunate job of delivering their message.

“They have called you to testify,” Iwaizumi says eventually. He looks as though he’s about to say more, but his eyes focus in on something past Keiji’s head and his gaze hardens ever so slightly. “Are those the mortals?”

“They are,” Keiji says. He takes a breath, pries Suga’s hand off of his am and stands slowly. The world around him spins, and his knees buckle. As he wobbles, Suga’s hands are back on him, steadying him. Three pairs of eyes dig into the back of his head. One of those sets of eyes belongs to the same person who shot him. Keiji hasn’t forgotten, he can’t forget, not when there’s a hole in his shoulder. It would be so easy to step back and point fingers. To tell The Council everything. But they are mortals and they are in his Domain. He can’t _not_ protect them.

Keiji lifts his chin. “But The Council summoned  _ me _ . They have nothing to do with this.”

“The Council summoned them as well.”

Everything freezes. Keiji can’t tell if the spots dancing across his vision are from his mind swarming or caused by the lack of blood in his body. He must sway slightly, because Suga’s grip on him tightens, and suddenly Hitoka is at his side, a hand resting on his chest.

“He needs to be treated first,” Hitoka says in a rush. Keiji can’t tell if she’s saying this to buy him time or if she actually means it, but he appreciates the gesture either way. “There’s no way he can testify in this state.”

Sawamura pales, he’s never been good with blood if Keiji recalls correctly, and his hardened expression breaks almost instantly. It must not have been clear just how bad the wound is. Even Iwaizumi stares, eyes widened. It must be worse than Keiji had even thought. Bokuto had mentioned something about it earlier. Perhaps he should have listened to them.

“Of course,” Sawamura says.

“We’ll inform The Council,” Iwaizumi continues, “come get us when he his healed. For now, we’ll take the mortals and-”

“No!” Keiji snaps. His voice is sturdy, and he can feel the power ripple across his palms. Iwaizumi and Sawamura freeze. “They stay with me.”

Iwaizumi frowns, but Sawamura puts out his hand and nods. “Of course. Take care of him, Yachi.”

Hitoka nods, and the two turn, walking back towards the seal.

“Sawamura, Iwaizumi,” Keiji calls after them, surprised by the strength of his own voice. The two stop and turn back around. “Thank you and… I am sorry things have to be like this.”

“I’m sorry too,” Sawamura says. “Believe me when I say that none of us want this. Be careful, Akaashi. The Council… It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them this angry.”

With that the two of them step onto the seal, then vanish, dissolving into thin air.

Keiji allows himself to collapse the second the two of them are gone.

“Akaashi!”

It’s not just the blood loss, though that does make it difficult to stand. It’s the thoughts and the pressure and the sudden realization that no matter what he does, this is the end. The end of everything. There is no way out. Keiji lifts his head slowly and looks around the temple. His home. By the end of this, it will be left to sands of time. Maybe explorers really will find it, or maybe it’ll remain alone until nature finally claims it fully. Keiji can’t decide which fate is worse.

“Akaashi, can you hear me?”

Keiji looks up and finds himself staring at golden eyes, brighter than any sun he’s ever seen. A rough hand comes to his cheek and rests there.

“Are you okay?”

Keiji forces himself to nod. He can’t bring any more distress to them, not until he thinks of a plan. He will get them out of this, even if it means actually dying a second time.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry this is a bit late, work a life made me lose track of the days. Thank you all for reading we have one more chapter of story left and then an epilogue! Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> CW: mentions of blood, vague descriptions of anxiety

“Keiji, this is a bad idea,” Suga says.

Though Koutarou doesn’t totally understand _what_ the bad idea is, he agrees that it’s a bad idea. He, Kenma, and Tetsurou are all huddled together on the worn seal in the middle of the temple. Out of the three of them, Kenma looks the most uncomfortable. Whether that’s because of what was just described to them or his continuous sickness, Koutarou can’t tell. He also can’t investigate. He’s much too preoccupied with watching Akaashi – Keiji? – Koutarou’s not entirely sure what to call him now.

“I’ll be fine,” Akaashi says, pushing off Suga’s hand. “We can’t all fit on the seal together, and I’m the only one who can grant mortals permission to enter my room.”

“One of us should still travel with you,” Suga responds. The small girl beside him, the one Akaashi called Hitoka, nods shyly.

“Then I’d be transporting five people instead of just four.”

“Either Tooru or I could lend you power.”

“Trust me, I don’t need extra power.” Akaashi holds out his hand and a green light crackles across his skin like lightning. “I’ll be fine. You’d be coming right after me, and it’s not like I can die or anything.”

Suga gives him a steady look, but after a beat removes his hands from Akaashi’s arm and shoulder. “Fine. Just… be careful.”

“You’re not even a God of Child Care and yet you’re such a parent,” Akaashi mumbles under his breath.

“Well someone has to be!” Suga snaps back.

Koutarou almost thinks he sees Akaashi smile, but his expression is stone cold as he turns and limps towards the seal. The last ten minutes or so have shown him an interesting side of Akaashi, one that is simultaneously open and closed off. He acts more mouthy around Suga and Tooru, and yet he hasn’t smiled or shown much of an expression in response to anything. After everything that has happened, however, Koutarou can only imagine the mass of emotions Akaashi is struggling to wade through. Still, it would be nice to know what he’s thinking, and if Koutarou can help in any way.

Akaashi almost makes it to the seal before his legs give out. Koutarou notices the shaking in his legs before they buckle under him, and is there in a second. After a moment of tension, Akaashi sags against Koutarou allowing himself to be led to the seal.

One on the seal, Akaashi steadies himself and rolls Koutarou’s hands off his shoulder. He doesn’t look back at them, only closes his eyes and let out a breath. The green light is back, dancing faintly across Akaashi’s skin.

“This won’t hurt. There will be a moment when you feel as though you are suspended by nothing and then it will be over. You might feel a little sick or dizzy once we reach the other side, there’s a lot more energy there.” Akaashi says. “Also, you’ll want to hold your breath.”

Koutarou doesn’t get a chance to ask why, because the faint buzzing in the air grows, encompassing him a second later. Koutarou isn’t given much of a choice about whether he can breathe or not. He is simultaneously squished together and stretched apart to impossible lengths. There’s a brief moment of stillness where he is everywhere and nowhere all at once. A second later it’s over.

Koutarou’s eyes flutter open, he hadn’t noticed that he had closed them, and he looks around. The room they are in is small and round in shape. Murals dangle from the ceiling and hang off the walls. Along the edge of the room are couches and chaise lounges, but all of them are too clean and orderly to have ever been touched. Koutarou looks down and finds that he’s standing in a crystal clear pond that’s only about ankle deep. When he’s pulled out of the water by Akaashi, his pants and shoes are dry, as though he was never in the pond to begin with.

He doesn’t notice when Suga, Oikawa, or Hitoka arrive, because a swarm of energy that he’s never felt before hits the moment he is out of the pond. It is cold and hot. It presses around him, vibrating as if the air is in constant rapid motion – air is always in constant motion, or so Kenma would say, but this is motion that Koutarou can feel and it’s definitely not wind. It swarms his head with noise, assaults his ear with pressure, and makes every hair along his arms stand straight.

He would have missed Akaashi standing at his side if it wasn’t for the voice pierces through the constant white noise of energy. “I know this is a lot. It will be better once we are out of this room. I’m sorry.”

Koutarou wants to reply and tell Akaashi that he’s fine, but his mind can’t concentrate enough to form words. Akaashi, who still holds his elbow, leads him out of the room. The buzzing is softer outside, but it’s still present in a way Koutarou isn’t used to. Even large cities there’s never been anything like this. It’s a presence that is always turned on and constantly _there_.

He allows Akaashi to guide him through lush and seemingly endless gardens. Surrounding them are white, seemingly glowing buildings, which he’s sure are all uniquely beautiful but he can’t quite concentrate on any of them to prove that thought true.

The more they walk the easier it is to begin to ignore the constant flow of energy. Akaashi’s presence acts as a grounding force. Koutarou grips Akaashi’s arm, which he’s sure can’t feel good, but Akaashi never brushes him off or tries to loosen his hands.

Koutarou isn’t sure how long it takes, but he knows when they reach the infirmary. They are guided inside again, and there’s a new calmness in the air that makes walking and thinking a little bit easier. They cross an open-air hallway and slip through some door, maybe two. Akaashi lowers Koutarou in a chair, and once he is sitting the world stop spinning.

A moment later, Akaashi collapses in the seat to Koutarou’s left, hand clenched over the wound in his right shoulder. It’s stopped bleeding at some point, but the right side of Akaashi’s shirt is dyed a dirty and ruddy red. Koutarou almost swears he sees a twitch in Akaashi’s eyebrow, the smallest sign of pain. He can’t be sure, but any shifts in Akaashi’s expression are easy to make out in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Sunlight? Hadn’t it been night back in the temple?

Tetsurou collapses into the chair on Koutarou’s other side, and Kenma sits down calmly as well. Koutarou looks around, he and Tetsurou are the only two who are affected; the Gods and Kenma don’t seem bothered by the energy in the air. In fact, he looks healthier now than he had in the temple. He’d look comfortable too, if he wasn’t so tense and fidgety.

“H-how are you three feeling?” Hitoka, the small nursing Goddess asks.

Koutarou can’t find the words to express the heaviness in his body and the constant energy and pressure around him so he just shakes his head. Tetsurou seems to be in a worse state. He doesn’t move or reply, so much as groan.

“I’m feeling fine, actually,” Kenma replies.

Hitoka gives Kenma a strange look. “Really? All mortals who enter The Realm of the Gods feel some mixture of dizziness, nausea, and confusion. The energy here is a lot to handle, especially for bodies that are not made for it.”

Kenma shrugs in response, and Koutarou hopes that it looks like he was listening. Seemingly pleased with their responses - or perhaps she's just too preoccupied to pay them that much attention - Hitoka turns her head to Akaashi. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Akaashi says, sitting up.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Hitoka raises her hand, and then her eyes glance over Koutarou, Tetsurou, and Kenma as they sit beside Keiji in various states of exhaustion and consciousness. “Let’s h-head to the next room over.”

With that, Hitoka leaves the room, Akaashi trailing not too far behind her. Koutarou watches them leave with a sort of heaviness in his chest. Suga and Tooru hover by the door once the other two Gods are gone, exchanging glances.

“I would offer you water,” Suga says after a moment, “but mortals shouldn’t consume any substances in this Realm.”

“Why not?” Kenma asks.

Suga and Tooru exchange another glance. “Ties,” Tooru finally admits. “Just as your substance ties you to the Mortal Realm, our substances tie us to this Realm.”

“What happens if you eat food from both?”

“Not good things,” Tooru responded. “The Council… Let’s just say this, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“What’s The Council?” Koutarou asked, his own voice rough and his words slurred. His mind was still buzzing and his thoughts tumbled over each other, but one word persisted: Council. Those other Gods had mentioned it back in the temple, and the fear it had brought had been unnerving.

“They’re a group of the thirteen oldest Gods,” Suga says lightly before Tooru can add anything else. “They act as lawmakers and presiders of justice. They’re nothing you have to worry about.”

“They called Akaashi for something, though?”

“And us,” Tetsurou adds with a groan. “They called us too, so I think we do have the right to worry about them.”

Suga sighs. “Even if we were to tell you, there’s nothing you can do about it. So please, let us handle The Council and you focus on… not getting sick.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Kenma asks.

Koutarou blinks and glanced over at Tetsurou, but he looks just as surprised. Kenma has that glint in his eyes, the one of determination. It was one that Koutarou had only seen a handful of times, and even then it hadn’t ever persisted.

“Well…” Suga starts.

“What you can do is stay quiet,” Tooru cuts the other God off, “and let us handle everything. Okay?”

Before any agreement can be made, the door opens and Akaashi slips back into the room, Hitoka following him. He walks with the smooth grace Koutarou can remember, and though his shirt is still torn and stained with blood he doesn't look to be in pain. He crosses the room but doesn’t sit down, only leans back against the wall.

“He’ll need some more time to recover,” Hitoka mumbles. “So I’ll try to keep them off your back for as long as I can.”

Suga smiles. “Thank you, Yachi. You really don’t have to go through all this.”

Hitoka’s face hardens, and she no longer looks like the timid Goddess Koutarou had observed in the temple. “What they’re doing isn’t fair, and I can’t testify, but I can do this.” With that, she slips out of the room, closing the door behind her.

The silence that follows her departure is thick and awkward. Each person looks to the others to start the conversation that they all know they need to have but don’t want to have. Koutarou shifts in his seat. The energy in the air remains sharp and noisy but it’s easier to focus now, easier to think.

His eyes drift back to Akaashi, still leaning against the wall. Though he appears to be healed, the right side of his shirt is almost brown from the dried blood, and there’s a tear in it by his right shoulder. When he meets Koutarou’s gaze, he looks down at the floor, his expression unreadable.

Tetsurou shifts in his seat, glancing around the room. “Okay, now that I no longer feel like I’m gonna barf I have to ask. What the fuck is going on?”

Suga and Tooru scramble over each other to try and produce a logical sentence that sounds more like a flimsy excuse than anything else. When Akaashi pushes himself off the wall, they both fall silent. “We owe them an explanation.”

“They owe _you_ an explanation!” Oikawa snaps. “You almost died because of them. Do they even know that?”

The blood drains from Koutarou’s face and his stomach twists and drops. Seeing Akaashi injured was one thing but… he had almost died? Koutarou doesn’t know if it’s the energy in the air or not but his head swarms and his breath comes short. Akaashi had tried to pass the injury off as an inconvenience, but it had been worse than that. So much worse. And Koutarou hadn’t had a clue.

Akaashi lets out a long breath and sends a sharp look to Oikawa. “Well, they know now.”

“As they should!” The other God huffs.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What happened?” Tetsurou asks, rubbing his temple.

“You shot Keiji, that’s what!” Oikawa’s predatory gaze turns to Tetsurou, Kenma, and Koutarou. He looks just as deadly as he had on the mountainside, but there’s a sharpness in the air that hadn’t been there earlier. His powers, Koutarou realizes weakly, they’re stronger here, much stronger. “And then you stole his Artifact, and because of that-!”

“That’s enough!” Akaashi barks and the room falls silent and cold. Koutarou hadn’t known that Akaashi was capable of raising his voice, but perhaps he didn’t know Akaashi that well after all. “If you can’t hold your temper, leave.”

“Keiji, listen, they need to-”

“This is my story,” he says, “and I’m going to tell it my way. Your opinions are valid, but nothing can get done with us shouting and pointing fingers at one another.”

“He’s right,” Suga says, guiding Tooru towards the door. “Besides, someone needs to keep a lookout for any Council nymphs that may be on the lookout. Someone clearly told them something. Keiji will deal with the mortals and we’ll buy everyone some time.”

Suga and Tooru leave in a whirlwind of grumbling. Once the door closes behind them, Akaashi lets out another long breath, leans back against the wall, and lets his eyes fall shut. For the first time in forty-eight hours, Akaashi truly looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes are so dark they almost match his hair, and his tan skin lacks its usual vibrancy, even as energy crackles across it. It’s as if a single breath of air could topple him right over.

“I apologize,” Akaashi finally says. After a few more breaths he forces his eyes open and runs a hand through his messy, black hair. “They can be a lot. Now, what can I do to make this whole situation make sense?”

“What- did you really almost die?” Koutarou asks.

At the same time, Tetsurou inquires, “What’s an Artifact?”

Akaashi looks between the two of them. “No, I… well… An Artifact is an object tied to a God’s immortality. In essence, it’s a piece of our soul, without it we might as well be mortal. A wound like this,” Akaashi brushes his right shoulder with the tips of his fingers, “shouldn’t have weakened me as much as it did, but without my Artifact…”

Tetsurou slumps back in his seat, face pale. “Shit. That means I almost…”

“You didn’t,” Akaashi says quickly. “And I cannot blame you. You were scared, as you had every right to be. My powers… I couldn’t control them. I apologize for that. I apologize for lying to you as well, though,” Akaashi gives the three of them a quick look over, frowning all the while, “I am less sorry for that.”

“We’re sorry for lying to you too,” Tetsurou says. “And and for taking your… artifact-statue thing, and for shooting you. I didn’t realize that you could have-”

“But I didn’t,” Akaashi replies without missing a beat. “Besides, because of this injury, we now have time, which we wouldn’t have had before.”

“Time… right…” Tetsurou mumbles, “Cause that’s what really matters right now.”

“When dealing with The Council, it does,” Akaashi says as if that provided any clarification. “I’m sure Suga and Oikawa explained.”

“They explained what it is, but not what they do,” Kenma says.

“Yeah. Like, why are they so bad?” Koutarou adds.

Akaashi frowns and stacks off to the door. For a moment Koutarou isn’t sure that he will answer. But after a moment of fiddling, he returns to his spot against the wall. “We must speak softly,” Akaashi explains after a moment, “it is rude to speak behind their backs. The Gods on The Council are not bad, they simply follow the precedent that has been set. The Council is made up of the oldest Gods. However, that does not mean they are the strongest. In fact, many of them have lost much Influence over the years.”

“Then why are they still part of The Council?” Koutarou asks.

“Once a God is on The Council they cannot be removed unless they step down themselves. Even if a God loses all their Influence, they could still serve on The Council. Because of that, many of the Gods on The Council are no longer particularly influential. Gods who are more powerful than a majority of The Council are considered to be of ‘high Influence.’ Gods of high Influence can get away with more than Gods with low Influence. I no longer hold the Influence I once did, so they will punish me for the laws I broke. They have no reason to ignore it. If this had happened a number of centuries ago, when I was much more powerful and much more influential, they would have averted their eyes from this whole incident. But that is not the case, so we must make do.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Koutarou mumbles.

Akaashi shrugs. “It is what it is. The precedent has been set and the rules have to be upheld somehow.”

“How did you lose your influence?” Koutarou asks. There’s a pause, then his hand flies over his mouth. “I’m so sorry. Th-that’s such a personal question, you can ignore it or-”

“I’m curious too,” Tetsurou says. “You had a lot of power the other night.”

“Anger and re-instilled abilities will make me appear stronger than I am, but my power is only a fraction of what it once was,” Akaashi explains.

He appears perfectly comfortable with talking about himself, which is strange considering the last two weeks. But Koutarou looks down and studies his hands, which squeeze together, tighter and tighter every word. Green energy crackles across his knuckles every now and again. Akaashi’s poker face is great, but his body says differently Koutarou wants nothing more than the walk across the room and smooth out his tense hands, but that’s not possible nor is it appropriate.

“I’m afraid my story isn’t that great,” Akaashi continues, “but… if you want to hear it, so be it.”

Akaashi’s storytelling abilities are not lost to Koutarou. He knows how skilled the God is. After all, he told the story of the boy and the Jaguar Queen as though it were real. This storytelling is different. Akaashi skims over details of his people, he doesn’t even give them a name. When he describes the fire, he does so blandly and simply, as though it is simply an impersonal piece of history and not a personal horror that he had lived through.

“Do you know what caused the fire?” Tetsurou asks.

Akaashi shakes his head, and something flashes across his expression. Koutarou had seen the feeling multiple times throughout the story, but can never place what it means. “I never found out what happened,” Akaashi replies, “but even if I had, it would have changed nothing. My duty was not to the people. I was not _their_ guardian. I was the jungle’s guardian. For a while, I had forgotten that fact.”

“And after the fire?”

“They were gone,” Akaashi says simply. “If any survived, their belief in me vanished. I lost most of my Influence overnight, and then the rest of my powers is faded as time went on.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tetsurou mumbles. “That’s…”

“It always happens eventually,” Akaashi says with a small shrug, but the expression returns and makes Akaashi look a lot smaller and a lot less wise. “We Gods are not as all-powerful as you mortals think we are.”

“How do you still have powers?” Kenma asks almost timidly. “If you lost everyone who believed, everyone who gave you Influence, why are you still a God?”

“I’m not, in terms of title, and truly I should no longer be living amongst the other Gods. But because my temple and my Artifact remained untouched, The Council permitted me to keep my Wing. But my staff was cut by almost ninety percent and my duties were no longer to the Mortal Realm but to the Gods’ Realm. I became a sort of… gardener and page, if you will.”

Akaashi lets out a dry laugh after that, but his eyes remain empty and cold. Despite telling what was essentially his life story, or the story of his people, he appears as distant as he had the first week. Koutarou can see the gears twisting and turning behind his eyes.

“Now that you’re regaining power, what’s going to happen?” Tetsurou asks.

He’s either unaware of the distance Akaashi is putting between himself and them or is trying to bridge that distance. Either way, Koutarou isn’t sure that’s the kind of question they should be asking. Koutarou isn’t sure what they should do. As much as he wants to help, he can’t. The only thing he seems capable of doing is feeling completely powerless.

“We will see,” Akaashi says, pushing himself off the wall. “I am going to go find Oikawa and Suga. It shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

“What’s gonna happen with The Council?” Tetsurou asks.

Akaashi stops at the door. “Let Suga, Oikawa, and me deal with that. We’ve faced The Council before, we can do it again.”

He steps out of the room only after throwing a smile their way. Koutarou’s stomach drops and curls. That smile wasn’t anything close to being real. It was a sticker, trying and failing to cover up Akaashi’s real thoughts, and it did a pretty shitty job.

The only thing Koutarou can see is that fake smile and that flickering emotion. Both made Koutarou’s chest ache. His mind lingers on that unnamed emotion: the wide eyes, the trembling hands, the distance. Koutarou practically jumps out of his chair when all the piece put themselves together.

“Fear,” he breathes, “it was fear. I-” He looks back at his friends.

“Go,” Kenma says, nodding towards the door.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou agrees. “He needs you.”

Koutarou is out of the room in a flash. “Akaashi?”

The God in question isn’t too far down the hall and spins around at the sound of his name. “Bokuto? What are you-?”

Koutarou jogs over and stops in front of him. He’s quick enough to catch that fleeting look of fear before it is hidden behind another mask.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Akaashi says grabbing Koutarou’s hand. “If another God sees you wandering around-”

“I had to make sure you were okay!”

Akaashi sighs and goes to drop Koutarou’s hand. “I am fine.”

Koutarou grips his hand before he can pull away and meets Akaashi’s seemingly apathetic gaze with a look of his own. “Are you?”

Akaashi stares at him and for a second the mask cracks. Koutarou can see the fear pooling behind bright green eyes. Without giving it much thought he drags Akaashi into the nearest room.

The lights flicker on the moment they step inside and close the door. Koutarou isn’t sure where the source of the light is, but he’s not looking for it. The room is just like the one they had been in before, only a little smaller. Koutarou drags Akaashi to the patient’s bench and sits him down before sitting beside him.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

Swallowing, Akaashi nods, but it isn’t very convincing.

Koutarou squeezes his hand. “You can tell me, you know. I-I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to be okay, a-and I want to help you if you’re not.”

Akaashi pulls his hand from Koutarou’s grip, and this time Koutarou isn’t fast enough to catch it. “It’s nothing you can help with,” Akaashi admits. “And I don’t want you to worry. I hate hiding anything else from you but I can’t tell you. Not this. ”

Koutarou frowns as Akaashi’s gaze drops to his lap. “Is it about what’s going to happen?”

Akaashi doesn’t look up, doesn’t make any move to agree or disagree.

Koutarou leans towards him, pressing on. “Are you worried about what The Council will do? Akaashi, we’ll be fine.”

“No, you will not!” Akaashi’s head snaps up, eyes frantic and wide. “You… you can’t say that. You don’t understand how powerful The Council is. Even though they lost their own Influence they still have power. They need to uphold the laws and in order to do that they’ll…”

Koutarou swallows. A few days ago, he could never have imagined Akaashi losing his calm presence about anything, but here he is, breathing heavily and shaking in a bloodied shirt. He has this look in his eyes, as though he expected Koutarou to vanish into thin air in the same way he had ever night.

“Target us,” Koutarou mumbles after a moment.

Akaashi’s gaze falls again. “Yes. You’re mortals and because you are not, _technically_ , my Domain I cannot protect you with God Rights.”

Koutarou’ stomach drops. The fear laced into every one of Akaashi’s words is beginning to bury into his own skin. “What will they do?”

Akaashi continues. He either doesn’t hear Koutarou’s question or chooses to ignore it. “I broke my promise, and I failed you. I failed all of you. I’m so sorry. Because of me, they’ll… and once they find out about my _affection_ for you, then…”

“Akaashi? What are you talking about?”

“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have shown you the temple; I should have stopped with the village. I should have let you go, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Damn it!”

Akaashi slaps the bench and Koutarou flinches at the sudden violence. Not once has Akaashi looked up. With each word, he sinks deeper and deeper into his own mind. Koutarou reaches out to touch him, but stops, it’s as though there is a wall between them and Koutarou isn’t sure how to break it. He wants to. He can’t bear to let Akaashi wither away in his own mind, but he appears to be too far gone for Koutarou to do anything, and Koutarou hates that he let this happen. Hates that he is too late to help Akaashi. Hates that all he can do is watch him crumble.

“None of this would have happened if I hadn’t fallen in love with you.”

With that, the wall between them breaks. The silence that pours out is thick and dense. Koutarou doesn’t know how to wade through it, so he just stares, letting his pounding heart act as a reminder that this is real. His mind buzzes and his stomach twists in the same way they had when he had first been introduced to the energy of the Gods’ Realm. But now, that energy is in him, dashing through his veins and bubbling between his ribs. He can’t find the words, but he wants to, he so desperately wants to.

He’s pull back to the present when Akaashi slips off the bench and starts towards the door without looking once in Koutarou’s direction.

“Akaashi?”

He doesn’t stop.

“Akaashi.”

He’s almost at the door and the thought of him leaving causes a flash of panic through Koutarou’s chest.

“Keiji!”

Akaashi freezes at the name, but he doesn’t turn around. “What do you want?”

Koutarou slips off of the bench and crosses the room. “Akaa- Keiji, look at me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Akaashi’s voice in tight, and his breath is ragged.

Koutarou stops, allowing a few feet of space between them. He doesn’t want to startle Akaashi any more than necessary. “Keiji, please turn around.”

Slowly, Akaashi turns. If he had looked scared back in the other infirmary room with Suga, Oikawa, Tetsurou, and Kenma, he looks terrified now. His whole body is shaking, and Koutarou isn’t sure how he’s still standing.

“I’m s-sorry,” he starts again, his tongue tripping over itself in a very un-Akaashi-like manner. “That was very inappropriate and I shouldn’t have said anything. I-it’s not like Gods and mortals can have a relationship anyway! And I-”

“It’s okay,” Koutarou says.

Akaashi continues over him. “-shouldn’t pressure you. I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t expect anything back if that’s what you think. It’s ridiculous really. We’ve known each other for two weeks and yet-!”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Koutarou adds. Akaashi’s mouth falls shut, but his eyes are still wide and panicked. “I understand. It’s okay. I-I… er… like you to.”

“No,” Akaashi breathes. “Please don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true! I really like you, Akaashi. You’re smart, and kind, and caring, and so, so beautiful and you-”

Akaashi rushes forward as if he wants to cover Koutarous’ mouth, but stops. Instead, his hands fall on Koutarou’s shoulders then slide down to his arms. Koutarou shivers under the touch and leans into it as Akaashi grips his biceps and pulls him forward.  

“Please stop,” Akaashi says, his voice soft and breathy. “Th-this can’t be true.”

“But it is! I-”

“Shhhh,” Akaashi hushes him and pulls Koutarou forward. Until they are almost nose to nose. With each word, Koutarou can feel Akaashi’s breath fanning across his cheeks. “Y-you can’t. This… It’s not allowed. Gods and mortals we shouldn’t… You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“But why-?”

“You can’t. Please,” Akaashi begs. “I… I can’t have you getting hurt because of me. Because of _this_. The Council, they will use this to hurt you, to hurt me, to hurt your friends. They will use these feelings and tear them apart because Gods and mortals should never feel this way about one another.”

Koutarou’s chest tightens and suddenly the pieces fall together. He understands why Akaashi is so scared, not for himself but for others. Knowing that The Council would use his affection for Akaashi to hurt Akaashi makes him feel sick.

“What would they do?” He asks.

“Terrible things,” Akaashi mumbles. “They aren’t… They’re not cruel Gods. I’m sure it sounds like they are by the way we all talk about them, but they’re not. It’s just that we have laws to uphold and the ways they do that, isn’t always the best.”

“What do you mean?”

Akaashi shakes his head. Koutarou frowns, and slowly, tentatively, brings up a hand to cup Akaashi’s cheek. Akaashi leans into the touch before catching himself and freezing on the spot.

“What do they do?” Koutarou asks again, gentler this time.

“They will take your memories,” Akaashi says after a moment, not meeting Koutarou’s gaze. “They’ll take your memories of the jungle, of the temple, of the city… of me.”

“All of them?”

Akaashi nods again, then closes his eyes and lets out a shaking breath. “I-I’m sorry. I’ve failed again to protect the people I love. The person I love. I-I… I’m really not meant to be a God.”

“No, no, don’t say that. You’re a wonderful God. You protected us from the snakes and the bugs and the plants. You were our guide and nothing happened to us. The only reason we’re here now is because we didn’t listen to you. It’s not your fault. You didn’t fail us. The fact that you’re still trying now shows that. Akaashi… Keiji, look at me.”

This time, Akaashi lifts his head. Koutarou rests their foreheads against each other and stares into Akaashi’s eyes. It’s hard not to get lost in the bright and dark greens that compose Akaashi’s pupil, like a jungle unto itself.

“Even if I lose my memories, I don’t regret any of this, okay? I don’t want you to regret anything either.”

“I… I don’t,” Akaashi whispers. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

“Good. Don’t be sorry.”

With that, Koutarou pulls back slightly, tilts his head at a different angle, then presses in again. Keiji’s lips are dry and cracked, but soft against his own. For a moment, everything crumbles away: the fear, the infirmary, the sense of inevitable parting. All Koutarou can feel are Akaashi’s cheeks beneath his fingers, Akaashi’s hands digging into his arms, and Akaashi’s lips, light and warm, against his own.

The door squeaks open and suddenly Koutarou stands alone in the center of the room, Akaashi two feet over, leaning back against the wall. Two heads peek in, neither is smiling.

“The light was on,” Oikawa explains. Koutarou nods, and Akaashi makes a soft hum in agreement.

“We came to tell you that The Council is waiting for you,” Suga says quietly. “Daichi and Hajime are in the other room with Tetsurou and Kenma. Are you ready?”

Akaashi lets out a breath and steps forward. “No,” he says with more confidence than Koutarou knows how to muster.

Akaashi’s face has returned to its calm and closed expression. Suga and Oikawa must see something in it, however, because they both give Akaashi sad smiles and pats on the back as he exits. When they turn to Koutarou, they give him the same look. Koutarou follows along longing for another look or another touch from Akaashi.

Something warm brushes against his hand as they start down the hallway. Koutarou looks down at see Akaashi’s fingers brushing against his own, and just like that they are off, to face this foe together.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of plot! Next chapter will be a short epilogue. I can't say I'm totally happy with this chapter (I rewrote it three different times), but I hope the purpose it serves is clear. Also, if any of you had questions about Kenma, they are about to be answered. :) Hope you enjoy!
> 
> CW: minor undertones of anxiety

The only thing Keiji thinks about as they walk to The Council’s chamber is Bokuto’s lips against his own. If he falls into his mind enough, he can still feel hands resting ever so gently against his cheeks. Such memories cannot be remembered. If The Council gets one whiff of these thoughts, it’s over. So Keiji packs them away, wrapping the joy he felt with Bokuto moments ago with the joy he felt with his people all those centuries ago. The love he has for Bokuto mixes with the love of a village long dead, and the emotions merge until one is no different from the other. Slowly, his thoughts of Bokuto fade away until they are hidden among old memories.

Thought packing is nothing new. Suga taught him the procedure millennia ago, and, with careful practice, it became a technique Keiji is good at, too good at. It’s almost concerning how many memories and thoughts The Counci has looked for but never found. Feelings, however, are harder to hide. But as long as they don’t rip his thoughts apart one by one, his affection for Bokuto should not be uncovered, no matter how overwhelming it is.

“How are you doing?” Suga asks, quietly appearing beside him.

“How are  _ they _ doing?” Keiji replies. 

“Your morals are fine,” Suga laughs. “Tooru and I instructed them on how to behave and warned them about speaking out of turn or turning their backs to The Council. They should be perfectly well mannered.”

Keiji glances over at the three of them whispering amongst themselves and frowns. They look like they had each been pulled out of a muddy ditch, which the Mortal Realm might as well be in the eyes of The Council. 

“As long as they try,” Keiji mumbles

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Tooru and I are going to testify for you. It’ll all work out.”

“Thank you,” Keiji says, “And if it doesn’t… I’m sorry, for everything.” 

Keiji’s hand begins to creep up to his neck, but he reminds himself once again that his glass bead is gone. Hopefully, The Council won’t notice, but knowing them, it’ll be the first thing they ask about. To lose his one tool for communication… it just doesn’t reflect well on a God, especially since he threw it away on purpose. He’s going to have to come up with a really good story to pacify The Council.

“That reminds me!” Suga exclaims. He holds out his hand and mumbles something under his breath. From his sleeve a woven necklace appears, attached to it is a single glass bead. “This is yours. I found it in your garden earlier today.”

Keiji snatches the necklace from Suga’s palm and slips it over his head. He hadn’t realized how much he missed having something pressed against his chest until he feels the cold bead against his skin. “Thank you.”

Suga smiles. “As far as I know, The Council has no idea that it was ever missing.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Keiji says, returning Suga’s smile with a small one of his own, though it doesn’t last long. 

The rest of the walk to The Council’s Wing is silent. Daichi leads the way, and Hajime brings up the rear with Oikawa at his side. When they stop in front of the grand doors, a pair of armed satyrs approached them.

“Name and business,” the satyrs demand in unison.

“Lord Sawamura Daichi, God of Ground and Earth. The Council summoned Akaashi Keiji and company for testimony. I have retrieved them as requested.”

The satyrs nod and tap the doors with their speared staffs. As they step aside, the grand doors swing open. Daichi leads the way, and Keiji trails after him, rolling his shoulders back and evening his breathing. He can hear the soft gasps from Bokuto and his friends as they walk into the chambers, but aside from that, they fall silent. 

The Council’s chambers are three times as wide as his Artifact Room and twice as tall. Painted glass windows glisten above them and a seemingly endless line of chandeliers swing above their heads. Sitting along the back wall in equally massive, gilded thrones are the thirteen members of The Council. In the center sit the eldest members; the youngest members sit at the ends.

On the far right edge is Ushijima, quiet and tall. His eyes meet Keiji’s for a second, but Keiji doesn’t hold his gaze. He’s careful to show no interest in Ushijima or any of The Council members, watching, waiting for any sign of weakness. He keeps his breathing even, his powers out of sight, and his thoughts buried. So long as those three things remain in check he could face The Council on even grounds. Or on grounds as even as possible. 

“Council Members,” Daichi says, voice echoing around the room. The Council falls silent and all eyes turn to them. “I present, Akaashi Keiji, Protector of the Jungle.”

When he steps aside, Keiji strides forward, chin up, expression muted. This is not the first time he has testified in front of The Council. Testifying is not uncommon among the Gods. Laws are broken daily. This is, however, the first time Keiji knows his crimes will not be overlooked.

“Council Members,” Keiji greets them with a dip of his head. “You have called.”

“We have, Akaashi,” says the Goddess seated in the middle-most throne. Lady Akone is the eldest God serving on The Council. While her title as Goddess of Sky and Justice no longer holds power in the Mortal Realm, it is infamous in the Realm of the Gods. She speaks with elegance, authority dripping from each of her words. “Do you know why?”

Ignoring the jab in the gut that comes with the clear disdain in her voice - which is most likely due to his attire as he is still in a bloody shirt - Keiji shakes his head. “I do not. Could The Council please explain?”

To admit to knowing one’s charges is as good as admitting to one’s charges. Ignorance, while a ridiculous waste of time, is necessary.

“You are being charged with the count of breaking multiple Council Laws: you have spoken with mortals more so than strictly necessary, you have not maintained appropriate distance with mortals, you have revealed your powers to mortals, and you have bestowed your Artifact to a mortal. What do you have to say in response?”

Keiji takes a breath, steadies his voice, and says, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The word ripples across The Council.

Keiji keeps his chin elevated, his eyes focused solely on Lady Akone. “There is nothing that needs to be defended.”

From the far end, Keiji can feel Ushijima’s eyes bearing into the side of his head. He doesn’t allow himself to so much as a glance towards the God.

“You spoke and interacted with these mortals, did you not?”

“I did,” Keiji nods. Behind him, he can hear shallows breaths and constant fidgeting.  _ Bokuto, please relax, _  Kieji begs. But doesn’t let the thought linger for long. His attention remains on Lady Akone. For the sake of all of them, it must. 

“And you visited the Mortal Realm almost every day, have you not?”

The fact that they knew this… His eyes flicker to Ushijima. He isn’t surprised but it is still unsettling. “I did.”

“And they had your Artifact and took it out of its Sacred Space, did they not?”

Keiji’s eyes widen slightly. He can’t help it. How did they-? “That wasn’t-”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation,” Lady Akone snaps. “They also saw you in your Immortal Form, correct?”

“Yes, however –”

“That is enough. You know what the punishments for this is, do you not?” Her eyes drift from Keiji to what lies behind him. Bokuto knows, but Kuroo and Kozume do not. For a moment, Keiji wonders if he should have told them, but it is too late to consider that now. He only focuses on the Lady Akone’s expression. There’s a glint in her eyes. Some would call it cold acceptance, Keiji sees it for what it is, masked guilt. “Memory removal for the mortals, and ability suspension for you.”

There’s shuffling behind him, and Lady Akone’s eyes narrow. Keiji begs them to stop, lest they be called forward, which would ruin the rough plan Keiji had scrapped together in the minutes walking to the summoning. They must figure it out themselves, or perhaps Suga gives them some sign because the movement stops and Lady Akone’s eyes return back to Keiji.

“However,” she continues as if no time has passed, “after everything that you have done, The Council has decided on another penalty.”

Keiji’s stomach drops. Another punishment. He keeps his expression blank, despite the pounding in his heart. He’ll take anything as long as Bokuto, Kuroo, and Kozume walk free. Thieves or not, guns or not, it’s the least Keiji can do. 

“Permanent title revocation and extended power suspension.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him and maybe some other noises but Keiji doesn’t hear them. The only thing he is aware of his the pounding of his heart against his ribs. Permanent Title Revocation. He wishes that he could say it’s a surprise, but it isn’t. He had expected to walk out of The Council’s chambers with no hope of ever becoming a God again, but he had expected to do that on his own terms. He assumed that he’d be able to increase his punishment to decrease Bokuto’s. 

Apparently, however, The Council has other ideas

“You not only broke multiple of our Sacred Laws, but you have also dragged other Gods into your antics,” Lady Akone continues. “Lord Sugawara and Lord Oikawa were forced to break our laws and lie on your behalf. Not only did you almost get yourself killed, you endangered two other Gods.”

Something moves in the corner of Keiji’s eyes, and he can’t help but turn his head to look. Oikawa rushes forward, Suga two steps behind him. Keiji wants to reach out and stop them, but protocol keeps him frozen in place. They should know better. In fact, they do know better, but it’s Oikawa, and he wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue even if his own powers were on the line. 

“Your Ladyship, that’s ridiculous!” Oikawa says with fire behind every word. “We weren’t  _ forced _ to do anything. It was our choice to help Keiji. In fact, it was  _ because _ of us that he went to the Mortal Realm at all! I was the one who told him to-”

“Silence!”

The word bounces around the room, echoing over and over again. Oikawa and Suga are rooted in place, as Lady Akone looks down at them. “We did not ask for your testimony, Lord Oikawa.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Suga speaks up. “We were the ones who encouraged Keiji to seek a new source for his powers, and we lied on our own accord to protect him. Don’t punish him for crimes we committed on our own.”

Keiji’s gut hardens and falls. Do they not see the patience draining from Akone’s, or are they choosing to ignore it? They weren’t supposed to speak out of turn. This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to let Keiji talk his way out of this mess, and have the two of them there ready to give testimony if they were asked. By talking out of line, they only make more problems for Keiji and for themselves.

“Lord Sugawara, did you not hear what I said before?”

Suga bites his lip but doesn’t so much as flinch. He keeps his chin up and his eyes narrowed on The Council’s thrones.

Lady Akone snorts. “That is what I thought. As I was saying, due to the sheer number of crimes committed by Akaashi Keiji, The Council has decided on permanent tile removal and extended suspension as punishment. On top of what was mentioned in earlier testimony, you also used mortals for your own personal gain. You acted not with  _ their _ best interest in mind, but with  _ your _ best interesting in mind. You have, once again, failed to protect the mortals within your Domain.”

Keiji is drowning, or at least it feels that way. The air in his lungs vanishes, and his head begins to spin. Slowly, his carefully crafted words and wonderfully organized thoughts blend together. He is a failure, is he not? No matter how one spins the story, it ends with a broken promise and a trial in front of The Council. He couldn’t even protect three mortals, what makes him hope that he can protect any more? What makes him think he won’t fail again?

Before Keiji can sort his thoughts out, a voice behind him yells, “Akaashi is the kindest most caring God. He was nothing but helpful and did all he could protect us. He-”

The words are stopped with a croak, and Keiji’s chest contracts even further. The God to the the right of Lady Akone lifts one hand and slowly curls his fingers into a fist. Lord Udros, God of Water and Waves, glares down at them. “Be silent, Mortal. You may not speak out of turn.”

A strangling sound echoes behind him. Keiji wants to turn around, but he can’t give The Council what they want. Besides, he already knows what he’ll see: Bokuto standing, frozen in place, choking around words he cannot form. Keiji takes a few deep breaths, fingers twitching at his side. Power dances beneath his skin but he pushes it down, cutting the vines before they can sprout.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes Lady Akone is not the God directly in front of him, but Lord Udros is. He’s at least two feet over from where he had been not a moment before. He had moved without thinking, and he can almost guarantee he knows who is directly behind him.

The Council chuckles and whispers amongst themselves. Lord Udros unclenches his fist, but his glare never relaxes, it only shifts to Keiji. Behind him, someone crumples to the ground, and Keiji does his best not to flinch. By the gleam in The Council’s eye, he can already guess how successful he was at that.

“Keiji,” Lady Akone says with a click of her tongue, and Keiji shrivels under her sharp tone. “What are you trying to accomplish? Shielding a mortal? From what? We are not your enemies, Keiji. You know that. The less resistance you put up, the faster this will go. What do you say?”

“That this is ridiculous,” a voice from behind Keiji responds.

Everything that Keiji tried so carefully to craft, every line he tried to fall between, every rule he tried to follow, has failed. First Oikawa, then Suga, then Bokuto, and now Kozume. He tired to tell them that he could handle it, but they wouldn’t listen. It’s too late now. His fate is sealed. There isn’t any way he’ll get out this with is title and powers intact. He’s already failed. With nothing else to lose, Keiji turns his back on the The Council. As he does so, there’s a gasp that comes from behind him, and he can feel Ushijima’s glare bury into the back of his head.

Bokuto is still kneeling on the ground, taking deep breaths of air. Kuroo is already at his side, crouching and rubbing circles over his back. Keiji almost takes a step towards them, but Bokuto looks up and gives him a small and reassuring smile. Keiji freezes, his heart pounding of an entirely new reason. Damn these feelings. 

To Bokuto and Kuroo’s left, Kozume steps forward, gaze focused on nothing but the Goddess, Lady Akone, sitting above him. Now, suddenly aware of all the attention he has received, he shrinks under their eyes. 

“What is  _ so _ ridiculous?” Lady Akone asks. “Please enlighten us, mortal.”

For a moment, Keiji thinks that Kozume will wilt, just like Suga and Bokuto and Keiji himself, but Kozume doesn’t. He stands tall, rolls his shoulders back and lifts his chin to meet Lady Akone’s. 

“You can’t have things both ways,” he says, voice quivering slightly. “Akaashi can’t both be negligent and too attentive. He can’t care too little and too much, and he can’t over do something while not doing enough of it. It’s all contradictory. Choose one argument and stick to it, otherwise it just looks like you couldn’t actually think of a good reason for calling him here.”

Lady Akone clicks her tongue and drums her fingers over the arm of her chair, Keiji can hear her anger but doesn’t look to gage her reaction. He stares at Kozume with wide eyes. What happened to the quite and skeptical mortals who wouldn’t look him in the eyes? While Keiji is standing trying to keeps his knees from giving out, Kozume is holding his ground against not only Lady Akone, but twelve other Gods as well.

“Who are you?” Lady Akone asks.

“Kozume Kenma.”

“Kozume Kenma,” Lady Akone says as if trying to taste the name, “What made you think that you could state your opinions here?”

“It’s not an opinion, it’s an observation.”

“You are a mortal, your  _ observations _ have no traction here. Learn to speak in turn or do not speak at all.”

“One last thing,” Kozume continues. “You read Akaashi his charges, do we not get to hear ours? And where are you getting this information from? You weren’t personally there, so someone had to have told you. That doesn’t seem like a reliable source. Shouldn’t you ask for testimony instead of putting one in someone else’s mouth?”

In his right mind, Keiji would have stepped in and stopped the conversation before it began, but he’s frozen in place, amazed by the grace of Kozume’s words and the confidence of his simple logic. 

“Now that’s an idea,” Lord Udros laughs from besides Lady Akone. A few other members of The Council join him in a round of chuckles. “Should we get another opinion?”

“Yes, find a witness!” Another God yells from farther down the line. 

Lady Akone sighs. “Very well, a witness it shall be.”

Keiji turns around in time to see the other members nodding and muttering their agreement. The only one not moving is Ushijima, who has still not taken his eyes off Keiji. His expression is mostly unreadable save for one emotion: disappointment. 

Lady Akone smiles. “You were the one to request another source, so please step forward Kozume Kenma. The Council looks forward to receiving your testimony.”

Keiji’s stomach drops and before Kozume can step forward he says, “Your Ladyship, this is not necessary. If I agree to all charges-”

“Another testimony was requested, and the request was accepted, unanimously. Step back Akaashi. You do not have permission to speak.”

Against his own will, Keiji’s mouth shuts. He takes a step back, eyes downcast. As much as his tongue wants to move, it won’t. Like a domesticated dog, it stills when it is told and barks only on command.

Keiji can’t bring himself to look directly at Kozume, but he watches the small mortal walk forward through the corner of his eye. Kozume, though shaking slightly, walks with the grace and poise of a God, his hands balled into fists at his side. 

“Where would you like me to start?” He asks.

“We’ll take it from here, thank you,” Lady Akone says. Her eyes leave Kozume to look to another God a few chairs down. He stands and Keiji’s mouth dries. Lord Itarr is the God of Magic and the Mind and one of the most powerful Gods currently on The Council, beat only by Ushijima. Kozume turns his attention to Lord Itarr, watching the God with a skeptical expression. If he sees Lady Akone grimace, he doesn’t react.

Lord Itarr cracks his knuckles, then raises his hands, palms outstretched towards Kozume. The room stills, and the air becomes cold. Keiji can’t look away as teal mist bubbles up from Lord Itarr’s palms in the same way vines broke through his own. The mist drifts through the air and surrounds Kozume, who stands frozen, watching as the air turns faintly teal around him. He looks both transfixed and horrified. Keiji can’t blame him, even after seeing it tens of times, the God’s powers are still breathtaking in the darkest way.

Keiji can tell when the mist begins to take effect. Kozume’s eyes widen and the wonder is replaced by fear. For a few moments he twitches in place, and then he collapses. Keiji’s muscles scream to move, but he can’t. If he tried to pull Kozume out of the mist, it would only hurt him more.

The mist twists, and shapes begin to rise above Kozume’s head. Three figures move through tall trees, looking like silhouettes against a screen. The scene changes. Three figures stand by the edge of a river, a fourth is in the water, a snake slithering up it leg. The mist forms new shapes: birds, tress, a coin with a strange pattern, Kuroo’s face, shining bright with unhinged excitement. As the mist buries into Kozume’s head, it’s paints his memories for all the see. 

Kozume remains curled on the ground, shaking and breathing heavily. No matter how hard he struggles, his memories bubble up for The Council and everyone else in the room to see. Another memory is pulled from Kozume’s mind. There are only three figure in this one. They are laughing around a campfire that pops and crackles, sending sparks into an invisible sky. Kozume groans, and Keiji averts his eyes. 

His own head aches. He can still remember The Council going through his mind, picking it apart piece by piece. Any form of mind magic feels like someone performing surgery without using anesthesia. There’s another groan that is followed quickly by a gasp. The air warms, and Keiji lifts his gaze before he can think.

The mist changes. The first hints of a ruined village appear. Even made of mist, the scene causes Keiji’s chest to tighten. The figures move through the village, exploring. Four turns to two. Two turns back to three, and suddenly they are back through the forest, staring up an incline. Keiji’s knows what’s coming, and though he doesn't want to see it, he can’t look away.

The figures in the mist dissolve again, and more shapes are forming to take their place when the mist ripples and then scatters. Slowly, Kozume sits up. For a moment, teal mist dances around him at a distance. He holds his head, takes a few breaths, then stands. The last of the mist dissolves when he does, as if pushed away by a breath. Sweat prickles along Kozume’s forehead but he looks calm and collected.

“Happy?” Kozume says through gritted teeth.

Lord Itarr is still standing, hands out and palms up. More mist builds and descends. It wraps around Kozume. The mortal stiffens, his fists tightening, and then the mist dissolves for a second time. 

“What are you doing?” Lady Akone hisses.

“I-I don’t know,” Lord Itarr responds. “I can’t see his thoughts, he won’t let me.” 

Lady Akone’s eyes snapback to Kozume. “Who are you?”

“I already answered that question,” Kozume says “Perhaps you should find a scribe so you don’t have to ask the same questions over and over again.”

“Stop messing around. Who are you  _ really _ ? And don’t lie to me again!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kozume replies, slower this time. He looks to Keiji, and for once it’s not to glare, but a plead for help. Unfortunately, Keiji is as baffled as Kozume. No mortal should be able to do that. Avoiding and evading mind magic is one thing, removing the magic when it’s already inside your head is another.

There’s only one explanation but… Keiji’s eyes widen. The distrust, the discomfort, the sensitivity to his abilities. His stomach drops. If there was any sliver of hope left, it’s gone. It’s as if the universe enjoys screwing with him. He wants to scream. 

The Council falls silent as Keiji’s thought tumble over one another. There has to be a way out of this. Lady Akone’s eyes snap to Keiji, dark and boiling with something far deeper than rage, and Keiji knows then that they’re fucked, absolutely, positively fucked. 

“Did you know that  _ this _ one was a Demigod?” Lady Akone asks.

“I-I,” Keiji is at a loss for words. His eyes flicker between The Council, frowning in their seats, and Kozume, standing in the center of the room looking more and more like a chick that fell too from its nest. He only has one shot to get this right. He thinks about Oikawa’s advice, takes a breath, and says with as much confidence as he can manage, “I... considered it.”

“And you never reported it?”

Wrong answer. Keiji launches into an explanation before his mind can catch up, “There was no way to confirm it. Some mortals, after all, are particularly sensitive to certain energies.”

Lady Akone looks to Kozume, but any pity she had for him is gone, replaced only by discomfort and half-hidden disgust. “Just because he happens to be a Demigod does not mean we can overlook his crimes and the crimes of his fellow… the crimes of his friends. Not to mention that he went unreported…”

“That was no one’s fault but my own,” Keiji says. “Do not punish them for crimes that I committed.”

“That does not change the fact that their memories need to be wiped,” another God says from down the line.

“But what of the Demigod?” A Goddess asks. “Clearly wiping his memory would be impossible.”

“And we can’t send him back to the Mortal Realm with those abilities.”

“What would we do with him? Schooling?”

“I wouldn’t want to teach a Demigod, nevertheless keep one in my Wing.”

As the chatter of The Council builds, Keiji takes the moment to check on Kozume. He no longer looks like the intelligent and brave individual he had been moments ago. Now, standing in front of The Council as they berate a part of his very being, he looks as small as Keiji had thought him to be. Keiji tries to catch his eye, to remind him that not all Gods are like them, that he has people on his side, but Kozume won’t look at anything but the floor. 

The Council’s discussion only grows louder and Keiji’s thoughts slip away, melting into the noise. Mind too loud to plan, Keiji glances over his shoulder. Behind him, Bokuto and Kuroo stand together, Bokuto holding the other man in place. Keiji catches Bokuto’s eyes for a second, but he doesn’t have the chance to mouth any words of comfort or even try to smile.

“Silence,” Lady Akone says, calling them back to order. Keiji turns around just she looks the room over with a sweeping glance “We will deal with the Demigod once we have sentenced Keiji and the two mortals. For the time being, let’s set the Demigod up in another room and then continue with the proceedings.”

Kozume looks up, eyes wide. Even from a distance, Keiji can see that his breathing is shallow. Before Lady Akone can call for anyone to take he away, Keiji says, “I-I’ll teach him.”

All of The Council’s eyes are on him. Keiji swallows, pushing away the lump in his throat and tries again, “I can teach the Demigod. He can live in my Wing and work from me. That way he’ll be out of your way and no other Gods will have to be bothered.”

“We’re talking about this later, Akaashi,” Lady Akone says, glaring, “And it doesn’t involve you.”

“It would save resources.”

“Akaashi.”

“You wouldn’t have to waste anymore time discussing this.”

“Akaashi Keiji!” Keiji’s mouth falls shut. “This isn’t for you to worry about. Besides, why would you want to live with a Demigod? And what could  _ you _ possibly teach him? How to organize flowers? It isn’t as though you have powers to teach him with.”

Now those are questions Keiji knows the answers to. He stands a little bit taller, chin raised ever so slightly so he can meet Lady Akone’s gaze. “I could train him in the basics of his abilities a put him to work.” Keiji doesn’t miss the way Kozume scrunches his nose at the words, and neither does The Council. “I’m no powerful deity, but I have enough to get by. Besides, my Wing is large enough to house one more.”

“You seem to be forgetting that he is not a God, nor will he ever be,” Lord Udros says. 

“You seem to be forgetting that up until a few months ago, our Sun God was a Demigod, and now he is one of the most powerful Gods in our Realm.”

“Hinata Shouyou is an exception to most things,” Lord Udros grumbles. 

“Kozume Kenma is just as powerful. You saw what he did to Lord Itarr’s spell. Could  _ you _ do something like that, Lord Udros?”

“You have made your point, Akaashi,” Lady Akone snaps. “What is it that you want? For us to count babysitting the Demigod as part of your punishment.”

Keiji goes to respond then pauses. They’re giving him an opening, whether they are aware of it or not. He allows himself a moment to think. Kozume is a wildcard, but his fate is sealed, Bokuto and Kuroo are the ones who are still in The Council’s line of sight. 

For a moment Keiji forgets The Council. All he sees is Kuroo standing in front of him, gun raised. Not twenty four hours ago - according to Mortal Realm’s time - he left Keiji half-dead on the floor of a temple. Not twenty four hours ago he took Keiji’s Artifact and nearly got away with it. It would be so easy to turn him over to The Council, but when Keiji looks over to Kozume, the thoughts stop there. Kozume is no mortal, but Kurro still is, and as long as he is in Keiji’s Domain, he is under Keiji’s protection. Gun or not. Mistakes or not. That was the past and this is now. 

“Watching Kozume would not be a punishment,” Keiji answers, “I will take care of him and shoulder whatever punishment The Council requires, so long as both Mortals go free.”

The Council gasps and murmurs amongst themselves. Lord Udros looks close to blowing a fuse, or perhaps fainting, and Ushijima remains frowning. Keiji allows himself a quick glance in his direction, but he can’t tell what the Agriculture God is thinking. 

Lady Akone taps her hand against the armrest of her throne. When the room goes quiet, she asks, “you would be willing to shoulder not only your own punishment, but theirs as well?”

“Without a doubt,” Keiji responds.

“Even if that punishment sends you back to the grave from which you were saved?”

Keiji swallows, his lungs constricting. He can almost feel the arrow lodged between his ribs, as if it is still there, waiting to drain him of the last of his life. “If that is what The Council decides, than yes.”

“The boy is mad!” Lord Udros shouts. “These mortals stole his Artifact and yet he is willing to give his life to protect them! There is no logical bone left in his body, he can’t think straight. With judgement like this, how can we expect him to look after a Demigod? I told you centuries ago that we should have stripped him of it title, but you all refused, what do you think now?”

The Council is close to erupting into another debate, but before they can, a deep voice from the far end of the line speaks up, “Akaashi is a good and hard working God. He keeps his word and stands by his beliefs. He is a bit… peculiar, but I have no doubt he will pay his punishment in full and guide the Demigod through everything he needs to know.”

Lady Akone’s eyes drift down to Ushijima, who sits tall, expression nothing short of honest. “And what do you propose we do about the mortals?”

“If Akaashi believes he can shoulder their punishment as well as his own, then we swear them to secrecy and send them back to the Mortal Realm.”

“And this is a motion you are willing to stand by?”

Ushijima nods, short and curt, “it is.”

“Very well then,” Lady Akone says with a click of her tongue. “All in favor of pardoning the mortals and passing their punishment onto Akaashi Keiji please say aye.”

For a moment, the room is silent. After four heart beats, Ushijima says, “aye.”

The responses trickle down The Council, skipping Lord Udros, who continues to glare daggers into Keiji’s head. 

“The vote passes eight to five,” Akone says a beat after the last God responds. “Mortals, we will have someone take you to Oath Fountain, and after that you will be free to go. Akaashi Keiji, the Demigod is under your care, for now. We will call you  back at a later time to receive the rest of your punishment. For now, case dismissed.” 

And just like tha,t it’s over. Keiji releases a long breath, but he doesn’t have time to relax. He allows himself to be lead from the room by a grouchy-looking satyr. His mind racing. They did it, Bokuto is off the hook, his friends are too, and Keiji… that’s to be decided on later.

His mind rushes to what they had described before. Permanent title revocation. If they stay with that, he’ll lose it all; his temple, his Domain, his Wing, his God Rights. Most of his powers too. His chest aches at the thought of never seeing the village again, and he almost regrets not looking at it more the last time he was there, but that’s over now, and there’s no turning back. 

He doesn’t get a chance to fall too deep into his own thoughts. The moment they are out of The Council’s Wing, Suga and Oikawa are on him, pull him into a tight and warm hug. Keiji doesn’t have the energy or the desire to try and squirm away, and instead allows himself to sink into their embrace if only for a moment. 

When they release him, he opens his mouth to thank them but is cut off by Suga, “You did your best, and no matter what happens, we’ll stand by you.”

“We’ll even help train the Demigod,” Oikawa adds.

Keiji’s first instinct is to remind Oikawa that the Demigod’s name is Kozume Kenma, but he doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he says, “Thank you.”

Sawamura and Iwaizumi are next. Appearing at his side silently, they each give his shoulder a squeeze try for a smile. Keiji nods in return. He’s not going to pretend his stomach isn’t tied in knots or that his lungs won’t quite fill with air. 

Oikawa and Suga shuffle awkwardly away, dragging Sawamura and Iwaizumi with them. Keiji turns slowly and finds the cause of their disappearance; Kuroo, Kozume, and Bokuto hang awkwardly off to the side, watching him with mixed expressions. Keiji sighs and makes his way towards them.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he says in lieu of anything else. Shouldn’t they be happy? They’ll get to keep their memories after all. “Being sworn to secrecy is just like making a promise.” Only its permanent, and magical, and can’t be broken. “You’ll be back to the Mortal Realm no later than the morning. I won’t be able to guide you back to the city, but I will send one of my nymphs, and they’ll do the job just as well.”

He looks over them again expecting something. A smile, a look, a glint in an eye, anything. Bokuto is the only one who appears remotely comforted, but even he isn’t smiling. His eyes continue to dart from Keiji to something else in his periphery. Keiji follows his gaze and finds that something else to be Kozume. 

As per usual, he watches Keiji was a scowl. But there’s something else in his expression. It’s not distrust. It’s anger. The moment Keiji realizes this, Kozume turns and stalks away, down the wide hallway and out the large doors. 

Bokuto physically deflates mumbling something, most likely an apology, under his breath. And Kuroo’s attention never leaves Kozume. He glances back only briefly when he says, “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No,” Keiji says before he can help himself. “I should. This is my fault after all.”

“Kei-Akaashi this isn’t…” Bokuto starts, but when he meets Keiji’s gaze, his words fall short.

Keiji dares to give him a small smile, and briefly reaches out to squeeze his fingers. “It’s fine. Trust me?”

That earns Keiji a grin, and his chest bubbles as he turns and leaves the building.

Finding Kozume isn’t hard. Though the God’s Realm is large, it isn’t like he has a lot of places to go. He’s tucked himself under a tree, his legs folded in and his forehead pressed against his knees. When Keiji approaches, it becomes clear that he’s shaking. Keiji settles himself across from Kozume, leaving plenty of room between them.

Kozume must know that Keiji is there, but when he doesn't look up. Keiji swallows the lump that has formed in his throat and says, “I’m sorry.” Kozume still doesn’t look at him, but the sniffling stops so Keiji continues. “I know this is hard for you. I know what it’s like to be pulled from a reality you’ve known all your life and be thrown into a new universe with new abilities you didn’t understand. I’ve been there. A lot of Gods have. I know that all of this can be a lot to take in, but I’m here. When Gods come to the Realm for the first time, they’re introduced to a mentor, a God who will guide them and help them find their powers. Though it’s nothing official, I can do that you for you. I’ll help in anyway I can.”

Keiji finishes and finds himself looking into bright, cat-like eyes. Kozume watches him with a nervous expression mixed with some spark that resembles curiosity. 

“Do you… uh… have any questions?” Keiji asks after a long moment of silence. He isn’t sure where to go from here or what to do. Tries to recall his old mentor, but the memories are fuzzy at best. 

After a moment of watching him, Kozume asks, “What am I?”

“A Demigod.”

“I know that!” Kozume snaps and then lowers his gaze. When he speaks again, his tone is softer around the edges. “I-I get  _ what _ I’m supposed to be, someone who’s half-human half-God, but what does that even mean? I have powers? I’ve never done anything like that in my life! What happened in there…I-I don’t know what I did. One moment my head was being torn open and the next it was clear. It just happened. I d-didn’t do anything. Whatever you think I am, you’re wrong.”

Oh how Keiji wishes they were wrong. “But we are not. What you did is not something most Gods can do. Mind magic is tricky. Unless you specialize in it, you cannot control it. What you did in front of The Council, that kind of ability does not appear up overnight. As for what you are… you are not a God but you aren’t mortal either. Neither set of rules apply to you. Let’s leave it at that.”

“What does that even-”

Keiji stands and brushes any dirt and grass from his pants. Not that it matters, his clothing is already stained beyond recognition. How long has he been wearing these pants and this shirt?

“We can talk more about this later,” Keiji says. “If you want to say goodbye to Bokuto and Kuroo, now is the time to do it. After they take their oaths, they won’t remain in the Gods’ Realm for very long.”

He holds out his hand, and, after a moment of studying it closely, Kozume takes it and pulls himself up onto his feet. 

“Will I ever get to go back to the Mortal Realm?” Kozume asks softly.

“Yes,” Keiji says without hesitation. “You will.”

Bokuto and Kuroo are waiting right where Keiji had left them, hovering awkwardly in the corner of the hallway. He lets Kozume approach them first. The small Demigod is immediately pulled into a hug. While he is talking to Kuroo and Bokuto, exchanging goodbyes or whatever it is that mortals exchange before they part ways for indefinite amounts of time, Keiji shuffles over to Suga and Oikawa. They are standing alone - Iwaizumi and Sawamura must have left after Keiji did - and glare down any Gods or servants that walk too close to the mortals. 

“How’s our Demigod doing?” Oikawa asks, throwing an arm over Keiji’s shoulders.

Keiji shakes his head and lets himself fall into the warmth of the other God. 

Suga appears at Keiji’s other side and runs a hand across his stiff shoulder blades. “You, of all Gods, should know how hard it is to adjust to this Realm. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.”

“He shouldn’t be here,” Keiji whispers, so quietly he wasn’t sure Oikawa and Suga are even aware that he is talking. “He should be going back to the Mortal Realm  _ with _ them.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Oikawa says with a laugh that’s a bit too forced. “We’ll help you out!”

Suga nods. “Yes, we’ll help with  _ whatever _ you need.”

“Thank you,” Keiji says. 

Suga looks up, and Oikawa’s eyes hone in on something. A cat like grin falls across the God of Passion’s face, and suddenly they are both unwrapping themselves from Keiji. “Speaking of that,” Oikawa says, with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “We’re gonna go check up on that oath thing.”

“Yup,” Suga agrees quickly, taking Oikawa’s arm. “We  _ really _ have to go do that.”

Before Keiji can even roll his eyes, they’re gone. He turns to where they had been looking, and hovering, just behind him, is Bokuto. Seeing him allows Keiji to breath, and, for the first time in two days, he realizes how tired he is. He wants nothing more than the fall against Bokuto and sleep, but that isn’t an option, not now, not here. 

“Hey,” Bokuto breathes, and bubbles form in Keiji’s chest. Before he knows it, he’s smiling, but is smile doesn’t last long, even around Bokuto.

“I’m sorry,” Keiji says, because what else can he say?

Bokuto’s smile turns bitter. “Ak-Keiji, don’t say that.” 

Bokuto fumbles and then yanks Keiji into a hug. Keiji crashes against Bokuto’s chest and freezes for a moment as warm arms encircle his body. After a few seconds, he allows himself to melt into the touch, and his arm raise tentatively to warp around Bokuto.

“You did all you could,” Bokuto says into Keiji’s hair.

Keiji doesn’t say anything in return. There’s nothing to say. And if there was, his brain is too mushy to think of it. He lets himself sink into Bokuto’s heat and presses his ear against the mortal’s chest to listen to his heart. He doesn’t pull away and he doesn’t allow himself to look at Bokuto either. The urge to kiss him is large enough as is, and the hallway of The Council’s Wing is certainly not an appropriate place to kiss a mortal. They barely got out of one issue (and Keiji isn’t even fully out), they don’t need to dive into another one. Not yet at least.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Keiji unfolds himself from Bokuto, sliding his hands down Bokuto’s arms to twine their fingers together. Bokuto looks at him with such a bright expression it should be blinding. Instead, it’s just warm.

“What does this mean?” Bokuto asks quietly. “What’s going to happen?”

Keiji doesn’t know. For the first time in centuries, he doesn’t pretend to. He’s grown so use to having it all planned out, it’s a little scary to let go of that routine, but he knows it’s necessary, and he’s willing to do it, for Bokuto.

Keiji smiles at him, and Bokuto’s eyes light up in that way they always do when he sees Keiji, as if looking at him for the first time. The urge to kiss Bokuto returns, but Keiji reins it in. 

After a centering breath, Keiji says, “I don’t know, but I think it’ll all work out.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Wow, I really can't believe I made it this far. I hope you enjoyed the ride, and while this epilogue is short and a bit open-ended I hope you enjoy it too! Thanks so much for sticking through this story and for your wonderful words, they meant so much. Hope you enjoy this final chapter!!

“Good. Now, hold on to that feeling, wherever it is, and slowly focus it into your palms.”

Keiji leans back against the tree and watches as pale yellow sparks flutter across Kenma’s hands. For a moment, a faint light sprouts and grows, and then, all at once, it’s gone.

“Good, good!” Suga praises. “Almost there. Let’s try again.”

Kenma looks like he’s about to pass out. It isn’t even that hot out, and yet the strands of hair that have freed themselves from his ponytail are practically glued to his face.

“No,” Kenma grumbles. “Why do I need to know how to make light? We have flashlights and phones for a reason.”

Suga rolls his eyes. “Part of your education is learning the fundamentals of charms, and this is part of it. Try it one more time, and then we’ll take a break.”

Suga, as kind as he is, can be a bit of a workaholic. For Kenma, that means keeping pace with someone who has more stamina than they let on. As he watched, Keiji is thankful that his powers have nothing to do with charms or enchantments.

When Suga looks like he’s about to ask Kenma to try yet again after another two rounds, Keiji pushes himself off of the ground. Kenma actually looks ready to melt into the dirt, so it’s time to call it a day.  “Let’s take a break,” he says. “The nymphs brought some more juice.”

As Kenma and Suga walk towards the bench where the drinks have been left, Keiji’s necklace warms, buzzing slightly against his chest, and his skin flickers with a familiar surge of power. With one last look to make sure that Suga did, in fact, give Kenma a break, he starts towards the path that leads to the other side of the garden. 

He doesn’t make it very far before Suga asks, “Where are you going?”

“I have some chores to take care of,” Keiji says.

Suga’s eyes light up, and that familiar smirk crosses his lips. “Do you now?”

Keiji, face impassive as always, nods. “I do.” With that, he turns and starts down the path.

Behind him, Suga laughs and calls, “tell Koutarou I said hi!”

Keiji doesn’t justify his jeers with a response.

 

There’s a new freshness to the temple. The seal is still worn, and the mural remains faded, but the air is cleaner. Perhaps it’s the fresh magic that runs through the jungle, or maybe it’s just the rain. Keiji likes to think that it has something to do with the man seated on the steps of the dais.

Keiji doesn’t even get a chance to step off the seal before a faint click of a camera echoes around the space. Quietly, Koutarou curses, and Keiji can’t help but laugh. “Not fast enough?”

Koutarou’s head lifts up, a frown is drawn across his lips, but even from halfway across the temple, Keiji can see that he’s fighting a smile. “I’ll get it one of these days.”

Keiji just hums in response. It’s not worth arguing about it, and it’s cute to see Koutarou trying so hard to capture that moment when Keiji isn’t quite in this realm but hasn’t left the other realm. It’s become something of a game between the two of them. Keiji isn’t sure what he’ll do if Koutarou ever succeeds, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever have to worry about that.

Koutarou meets him halfway between the seal and dais. The kiss they share is chaste and quick, leaving happy bubbles dancing in Keiji’s chest.

“Has Kenma gotten a hang of that charm yet?” Koutarou asks, as they turn and start towards the front of the temple together.

“Not quite,” Keiji says with a shake of his head, “But Suga is working him hard, so I’m sure he’ll have it soon. He also told me to thank you for the games you brought back.”

Koutarou laughs, a beautiful sound, and grabs Keiji’s hand as they exit the temple and walk to the cliff’s edge. They sit down and look over the expanse of jungle below them. It’s hot, and the air is heavy with moisture, but Keiji still leans into Koutarou, and Koutarou returns the favor. For a moment, Keiji lets them sit in silence, enjoying the heat of another body pressed against his own and the view stretched out before them. For as hot and muggy a day as it is, the sky is surprisingly clear. 

“Any updates from Kuroo?” Keiji asks after the moment has passed.

“He’s doing well,” Koutarou says, then pulls away suddenly. Keiji barely catches himself and makes sure to shoot Koutarou a small glare, through with Koutarou’s excited expression it doesn't last long. “I forgot to tell you!”

A small smile flickers across Keiji’s face as he watches Koutarou’s eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Tetsu got the money! The magazine is in full production!!”

Keiji smiles in earnest. “That’s fantastic.”

“They’re going to start printing them next month, and then they’ll be on sale! Can you believe it?”

“You’ll have to bring me one when they come out,” Keiji says, settling back against Koutarou once he stops flailing around.

“I will. I promise.”

Keiji hums.

“Hey, do you want to see the pictures that will go into the next issue?” Koutarou asks.

Keiji blinks up at him. “You already have that planned?”

“Yup!”

Koutarou pulls his camera from around his neck and begins to flip through the various pictures of birds and other creatures and places. For each photo, he has a story, and Keiji focuses on the camera and listens, nodding along and laughing when appropriate. Each shot is perfect and crisp and clear. As Koutarou jumps around from picture to picture, some photos of Keiji appear. Koutarou always takes a moment to remind Keiji of what happened in that picture. Even if he remembers, even if he has heard the story twenty times, his chest still swells with each one.

Finally, Koutarou puts the camera down, and for another moment they just sit together in silence. Keiji lets his eyes slip closed so he can concentrate on the feeling of Koutarou and not get distracted by anything else around them.

“Keiji?” Koutarou’s voice is soft. He’s probably worried that Keiji fell asleep again.

“Yes?”

“When will I be able to see you again once I leave? Will I have to visit again? N-not that I mind or anything! I just… could you come visit me?”

Keiji sits up. Koutarou watches him for a moment then looks away, and Keiji’s chest constricts.

When Koutarou speaks again, his voice is quiet, “I’m gonna miss you when I have to leave.”

Keiji opens his arms and Koutarou falls against his chest. “Soon,” Keiji says. “Soon I promise. Once Kuroo’s magazine takes off and your pictures become more well known, people will begin to come here. And once I gain more influence I’ll petition The Council to get my title back.”

“And they’ll agree?” Koutarou asks from against Keiji’s chest.

Keiji runs a hand through his gray and black hair, twisting it carefully between his fingers. “They will. Especially if Suga, Oikawa, and Kenma vouch for me.”

Koutarou nods.

Keiji continues to run a hand through his hair and lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry things have to be like this,” he says. “I’m sorry we can’t-”

“No!” Koutarou jerks and Keiji pulls back just in time to avoid Koutarou’s head ramming into his chin. “I’ll miss you, but I won’t… I don’t regret this. I’ll never regret this.”

With that Koutarou surges forward and smashes his lips against Keiji’s. It’s a little rough and a little awkward. Their noses bump together more than is comfortable, but once they find an angle that works, they stay like that until both of them need to breathe.

Keiji runs a finger over his lips. They’re probably as red and swollen as Koutarou’s are. The thought makes his heart pound. “You really don’t regret this, do you?” He asks.

Koutarou cups his cheek in a warm hand and shakes his head quickly. “No. Never.”

His passion makes Keiji smile. And his hope makes Keiji hope. 

“Good,” Keiji says, leaning forward again until he's speaking against Koutarou's lips. “Because I don’t either.”


End file.
